The Future Ain't What It Used To Be
by Dologram
Summary: A small idea that popped to mind after reading one to many time travel stories. What if it was just the memories that were sent backwards in time? What if, the younger Harry didn't know how to deal with these memories? Instead of using them to become some sort of super, future telling God, Harry does what any sane person would do in his situation. Tell someone of course.
1. The Future Ain't What It Used To Be

Harry woke up, and tried to remember his dream.

He could never remember his dreams anymore. They swam immediately out of reach upon surfacing. The glimpses he could snatch came back to him at odd times throughout the day, nonsensical images and feelings of déjà vu. His dreams weren't like they used to be. He used to dream of bad people doing bad things. Sometimes his dreams had actually come true. Sometimes he could decipher them, adding this peice to that peice, forming a picture, a crazy jigsaw of future events. Vivid dreams, Harry supposed, we're just another part of being the Boy-Who-Lived-In-A-Muggle-World. Now he was where he belonged, his dreams didn't matter as much, and as such, that part of his magic had waned.

The morning light was pale, and lit up the small dorm room without enthusiasm. Outside it was cold. There was a wind, and it pushed at the window - not enough to rattle the pane, but enough to make it flex with a broken rhythm, like a weak heartbeat.

In the bed along the far wall, Seamus still slept, and in the one nearest the door, Ron snored, the sheets twisted around his lanky body like they'd attacked him during the night. His eyes twisted to the dark skin of Dean, and the slumbering form of Neville. Harry could call neither boy a friend, but they were nice enough to him, and he felt obliged to keep out of their way as much as possible. He stretched out slightly and rolled over, desperate to get the sleep that had so easily claimed his dorm mates.

 _The sky burned a fierce orange._

 _Not the actual sky, of course. But the shield that surrounded the city was burning. It held up, though. Draco was a master at wards, and he had still yet to have his work be defeated. It hadn't stopped the Death Eaters from walking straight through, however. But then again, that wasn't it's purpose._

 _Flames licked the cracked streets, and a thick haze of smoke hung lazily, pooling around and oozing out of the cinders of Durham Cathedral. It had taken four and a half hours for the ancient structure to burn down. Harry could only hope that if God existed, he would exact a special punishment on the forces of The Dark Lord for burning down the house of worship. Harry wasn't a religious man, but this angered him nonetheless._

 _He was snapped out of his stupor by the hellish glare of spellfire. Streaks of violet and green danced through his friends, and one by one, the surviving members of the Resistance either fell, like marionettes with their strings cut, or found cover in the endless rubble. People screamed. People died. People fought._

 _Harry and Ron were on a rooftop when Voldemort drifted into view. They watched him float down, a vision in light eating black, until he was standing on the shield that defended the remnants of the city. The Resistance's last stronghold. He smashed his wand into the tip of it, and a bright, white ripple extended outwards from that point. The shield darkened, and an overcast greyness fell upon Durham._

 _"It won't hold for much longer," Ron said, and Harry gripped his wand tighter._

 _Harry gave a curt nod in the affirmative. "We don't_ have _much longer. I can't say it's been a pleasure, Weasley, but the first six years of our friendship were some of the happiest I ever had. I just wish it had turned out differently."_

 _"Me too, Potter. Me too." Ron sighed truthfully. "I wish we could turn back time. Like an overcharged time-turner. Remember that in third year? With Hermione's? 'Cause I don't." Harry rolled his eyes. Ron could never get over being unconscious for one night and missing time travel. After giving Ron a slap on his back, Harry handed him his sniper. As much as Ron had hated to admit it at first, no wizards reflexes were fast enough to stop a bullet, even if they didn't have the capability to just sail right through a shield._

 _"Harry!" Hermione kicked open the rooftop door, a broadsword in her hands. "Oh my God, Harry, we need to go now!" She turned around and sliced an Inferi apart, before plunging the blade into the chest of a Death Eater._

 _"Good luck, Ron." Harry said softly, truly meaning it._

 _"You too, Harry. Do this for us all. So many lives have been lost, and only you can save them. I just hope thirteen year old you gets the message." Ron said, not taking his eye from the scope of the Barret._

 _Harry gave him one final, pitying, look, before rushing to Hermione's aid, and planting his revolver into a Death Eaters face and pulling the trigger. He would have loved to have used a Clint Eastwood, 'Dirty Harry' line, but there just wasn't time for such luxuries._

" _Do I want to know where you got a sword?"_

 _"Husband of mine, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Hermione grinned, proudly swinging it to rest on her shoulder as she struck a dramatic pose._

Harry gasped for air as his eyes snapped open, and he sat bolt upright. What the hell was that? He was no stranger to nightmares, but that was different. He _remembered_ it. Properly. He could perfectly recall it, almost... Almost like a memory, rather than a dream. Off the scale of different, and crashing into the uncanny valley of, _'What the hell, brain? Why is that so real?'_

He quickly glanced around, but relaxed as he found himself in the relative comfort of the Gryffindor boy's dormitory. He stretched his arm out, and felt the red velvet of the bed curtains, almost as if to see if this world was real. Satisfied it was, Harry stood up. Light now leaked through the window in faint dark hues, the November sky effortlessly pouring in the illumination. A flash of burning sky went through Harry's mind, and he stepped back in shock, but then as quickly as it had came, it was gone.

Harry knew it must be early in the morning, and a quick _Tempus_ confirmed it was six on the dot in the morning. Harry quickly started his routine, that of brushing his teeth, a brutal training regime including pull-ups, sit-ups, push-ups, a run, a shower, and it was only halfway through that Harry realised that this 'routine' he was so used to, was something he had never done in his life. _Ever._

Harry shrugged it off, labelling it as a fluke, and that he had been reading one to many of the 'fiction' books in the library when he should have been studying. It wouldn't be the first time he had replaced the dust cover of a fiction book with that of a textbook to give the appearance he cared about his academics. Hermione had yet to catch him, and he felt rather smug about it from time to time. He finished his shower at half past seven exactly, which made him frown slightly, but it left him fifteen minutes before his roommates woke up to think about his dream.

What the hell was it? That was the main question that ran through his mind. Never before had Harry had anything even remotely similar to that happen before. He referred to Dra - no, _Malfoy._ He had referred to _Malfoy,_ as though he were a friend, and the way he had spoken to Ron had been that of an enemy. He blushed when he thought about Hermione. He was slightly confused when it came to that regard. Why had his brain decided that Hermione was his wife? He hadn't really thought about girls in a way more than 'friends' before, so this was a development for him.

Then there was the burning town. Voldemort? Did that mean he had returned, in this dream? He specifically remembered saying that the city was the last stronghold. Did that mean in his dream they were losing? Was his scar influencing this?

He went cold at these thoughts, and pushed them to the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about what it could mean. He forgot all about waiting for Ron, and after getting changed, made his way down to the Great Hall, alone. He sat there and stirred a bowl of porridge absentmindedly, a headache now perusing him. The day had only just started and he could already tell it wouldn't be a good one.

"Harry?" A worried looking Hermione sat down opposite him. "Are you alright?"

Harry on receiving the fright, instinctively and instantly had his wand at his best friends throat, a _Diffindo_ on his lips, before he stopped himself with wide eyes, realising what he had almost done. He dropped his wand to the table with a clatter and started to violently shake. How could he have even thought about that? This was his wife, and he nearly killed her!

"Oh God, Hermione," Harry cried in relief. "I am so, so sorry!"

Harry frowned inwardly, drawing a long shuddering breath externally. He had just called Hermione his wife. Why had he done that? Why was this... This _dream_ having such an influence on him? More than any other?

Hermione's eyes were as wide as saucers, and fright hid behind concern in the soft, chocolate orbs. She clasped his hands in her own, stopping them from trembling. "I'm here, Harry. It's just me. Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?"

"Yes," Harry said drawing another long breath. "No. I'm not sure. Wait, how do you know I have nightmares? I haven't told anybody."

Hermione went slightly pink. "Ron told me a couple of weeks ago. Says he heard you. Don't be mad at him, he was just worried about you. I -" Hermione swallowed, concern overtaking her eyes completely now. "I'm here for you, you know?"

"Thank you, Hermione." Harry said quietly. "I am so sorry. About before. I don't know what that was."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later," Harry told her.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes."

"Are you lying?"

"I don't know."

Hermione looked around, and confident that the only others in the Hall were a couple of Hufflepuff's who were to engrossed in their conversation to notice, (even the teachers weren't in the room yet, although that wouldn't last long) she quickly stood up and jumped over the table and sat down next to Harry. Harry raised a quizzical eyebrow, but Hermione just squeezed him in a tight, warm hug. They stayed that way until the doors opened once more and the flow of students began to rush in.

"Hey Harry, where were you this morning?" Ron asked as he skidded to a halt and sat down opposite the pair. "I woke up and ' _bam!_ '" Ron slapped his hands together, and lowered his voice to a whisper for effect. "You were _gone!_ "

"I just woke up a little earlier is all, Ron. Nothing to worry about." Harry plastered a fake grin onto his face so convincing, Hermione almost fell for it. Almost. Harry was still reeling from what he had almost done to Hermione, that he didn't allow what would have usually eased a smile from him to do so. That wasn't something which would leave him quickly. Was he too dangerous to be around? What if next time, he didn't stop himself in time? His mind was awash with worry.

He stood up suddenly, and the world tilted dangerously. "I, er, need to go. I'll be back." Harry said.

"As long as you're back for classes," Ron snorted. "If you leave me to fend for myself in Trelawney's class, I'll deck you."

"Yeah..." Harry muttered, fully aware of Hermione staring at him. He waved slightly and stumbled out of the Hall. His brain was thick with emotion. He needed to lie down. He made his way towards Gryffindor tower, and uttered the password in a barely audible voice. What was happening? The next thing he knew he was standing beside his bed. He frowned. He didn't remember climbing the stairs to get to the dormitory. He had started to break out into a cold sweat. _I'm not well..._

With that last thought, slumber claimed him.

 _Harry grabbed the robes of a Death Eater and threw him out a window effortlessly, his muscles rippling as he did so. The Death Eater screamed on the way down, before the screaming ended with a dull thud. He turned and kicked another in the chest, before taking his head off with a blasting hex. Happy the room was clear, he grabbed Hermione by the hand and led her out into the street, where they took cover behind the charred husk of an overturned Ford Focus._

 _Harry popped his head above the wheel arch, and instantly ducked down. Spells scarred the underside of the car, and exploded against the sidewalk. Harry took this rare moment when they had cover to survey the damage. The makeshift wall was all but destroyed. Even now, it was crumbling under the heavy spellfire. A floating ball of blueish energy drifted to the wall and exploded against it. Watchtowers fell, Order and Aurors alike were killed by the blasts or, more likely, the falling masonry. A few explosions rocked the city itself, damaging houses and other dwellings. Magic was tossed to and fro and men and women went down screaming, but up close it was battle the old fashioned way. Blood and blade and grunts and spittle._

 _Hermione waited a moment before she rose above her cover, and fired a merciless_ Confringo _in the direction of their attackers, and then dropped back down._

 _"Guess that takes care of that," Hermione said mirthlessly. "Draco's waiting for us - this could be the only way we save everyone, so we need to do it quick."_

 _"Let's go then," Harry said. He stole a quick kiss from her. "Lead the way."_

 _They got up and started sprinting down the open street. Hermione coughed in the smoke, and Harry quickly tore his shirt off and put it in front of her mouth like a gas mask. She thanked him with her eyes, and swung with her sword against an oncoming opponent._

 _A Death Eater with a face like a battered shovel came at him with a sword in his fist. Harry knocked the sword to one side, tried to swing the butt of his shotgun, but he needn't have bothered. A well placed sniper shot took the Death Eater out of action._

 _Harry would have to thank Ron, if either of them lived through today. Or if the plan worked._

 _Harry turned around and jammed the barrel of the gun into another Death Eater's stomach before pulling the trigger. The body was flung into the air and dissapeared behind a pile of broken brick that was once a house._

 _"Nearly there," Hermione said as they continued on, fighting all the way. She paused to decapitate someone. "It's just underneath the Cathedral."_

 _Harry went to give her a witty, perhaps sarcastic joke in response, but never managed as a jet of light took her off her feet and sent her cascading down the road. Harry whipped around and ran towards her. He flung his outstretched wand hand out, and a bright blue curve of energy formed, keeping the rubble at bay._

 _"Move, Hermione!" Harry roared, desperately gesturing with the other hand for her to move. She got the idea, and stood up. She started towards him, slowly at first, only a limp, but sped up. It was then that a stray cutting curse sliced open Harry's cheek, causing him to flinch back and lose control. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw this, and started to break into a sprint as the flickering blue light faded away. Harry's own eyes widened as he saw this mistake, and quickly went to rectify it, but not fast enough as the building beside him crumbled and fell, right on top of his wife._

 _Harry stood there, shocked._

 _This was confusing. This was wrong. This was... He looked up, feeling the need to call a halt to everything, to point to his Hermione Potter, to tell them that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. But all around, people fought and died, and none of them felt the need to call a timeout._

 _His grip on his wand tightened, and his breathing quickened in pace. Spells richocheted off twisted metal and around him, almost bending to his will. He let out a scream, a primal roar of rage._

He started slightly and jumped out of bed, reaching for a revolver in a holster that wasn't there. _Hang on. A gun? Why would I... Why would I have a gun?_

He gasped out in pain as a stream of memory flowed through his brain. A .44 Magnum, how to engage and disengage the safety, the best way to hold it, how to stop it from jamming, how to squeeze that extra amount of power out of it, how to enchant it to make it more durable and the bullets faster, how to clean it the most efficient way to get rid of caked oil and dirt, how to make sure the gunpowder didn't burn his knuckles when fired, how to-

Harry swallowed. He was really not sure what was happening anymore. The only real need he felt was to run, to find Hermione and to embrace her, to kiss her, to make sure she was alright. Harry shook his head, frustrated tears starting to form. That wasn't him. Why would he want to kiss her? What was _happening_ to him? _Why_ was this happening to him?

There was a light knock on the dormitory door, and Hermione peeked her head around it. "Harry? Harry are you okay? Please, I'm worried about you."

Harry groaned and rolled over. Though it felt like he had slept well through the day, a quick _Tempus_ told him that wasn't the case, and only fifteen minutes had passed since he had fallen asleep. He looked up, and for what felt like the first time, he _truly_ saw his best friend.

She was smart and brilliant with brown curls and brown eyes, she had a tongue as sharp as her cheekbones and the worried look that quivered her top lip was barely covered by the nail of her thumb that she gently nibbled on with her slightly larger than usual teeth. She was everything she had always been, but most important she cared. She was worried about _him._

"Is it because of Sirius Black?" Hermione decide to come straight out with her suspicion of what had her friend acting so strangely. "Are you worried he'll get to you? Is that what's wrong?"

"I'm more worried he'll get to you," Harry muttered distractedly, not noticing the small smile and light blush that formed on the brunettes face at his words. He was more worried about the fact that he suddenly didn't hate Black's guts anymore. He stood up. "We should, erm, probably get to class. What do you have?"

Hermione stiffened slightly, and looked away, not meeting his eyes. "Ancient Runes." Harry noticed her hand had jumped to her neck and he saw a glint of gold where her fingers grazed. A necklace of sorts.

His head burst into pain, less intense this time, as memories of events later in the year flowed into his brain. The time turner, how his Hermione had used it all year to get to all of her lessons, rescuing Sirius and Buckbeak, flying with Hermione _on_ Buckbeak, Fighting off almost two-hundred and seventy-six Dementors with a single patronus, remembering Hermione's shocked worried face, how close he had come to kissing her when they ran back into the Hospital wing, watching themselves vanish, Dumbledore's talk about how-

Harry stumbled back as more pain throbbed. Discovering Sirius Black's innocence, the real traitor, Peter Pettigrew turning into a rat - _Scabbers -_ Professor Lupin turning into a werewolf, Snape refusing to acknowledge to the Minister of Magic that Sirius was innocent, Hermione showing him-

Harry opened his eyes that were once more blurred with tears of frustration. Hermione ran towards him and wrapped him in a run-of-the-mill yet one of a kind 'Hermi-hugs' as he had dubbed them.

Hermione was asking him if he was okay, but Harry wasn't fully listening. He was trying to figure out what was happening when it struck him - there was only one way Harry could confirm if these 'Memory streams' were real, or just another side-affect of a funny dream. He had to ask Hermione if there was a time turner.

It wasn't exactly something he could confuse with anything else, but it could simply be an outlandish idea created by an overcharged mind. Even wizards couldn't time travel, right? Right? There was only one way to find out. He swallowed nervously, and gently patted Hermione on the back. "Err, Hermione?"

"Yes?" Hermione answered immediately, jumping back so she could see his face. "What is it? Can I help? What can I-?"

Harry placed his index finger on her lips, effectively quieting her. She blushed, looking suitably chastened. "If you don't, and this is complete nonsense, then please just ignore it, but I have to ask - Do you have a time-turner?"

Hermione's mouth dropped into a perfect, 'O' before it began moving not unlike a fish. Her eyes were panicked, her breathing quickened, and he could feel the tension rising in the room. "H-how could you possibly know about that?"

"I'm, erm, not sure," Harry responded semi-truthfully, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can we talk about this later? I need to get to Divination. You need to get to Runes and then I'm assuming Arithmancy with that wonderful device of yours."

"Harry," Hermione's eyes were wide. "Please tell me, who else knows about this? How can you know?"

"No-one else knows," Harry said. "To the best of my knowledge at least. I-I... I have to go."

Harry got up, and embraced his friend in a hug that lasted a second to long to be friendly, not that he could tell, before he was gone out the door.

Hermione on the other hand, would usually be able to tell these things. She picked up on fine details like that. It was what she was good at. Someone would tell her later in life that these were attributes to being naturally gifted at mind arts, but right at this moment she was panicked that anybody had found out her secret. Let alone her best friend. Let alone Harry Potter, who always got into trouble.

She frowned to herself. That wasn't fair. That wasn't his fault at all, not even in the slightest. But, but, she still didn't like anybody knowing this! She had sworn to keep it a secret, and was positive she never let it slip. She even wore it to bed to keep it secret, despite Professor McGonagall's warnings about accidentally turning in her sleep. There was simply no way she had let slip.

No, she decided. She hadn't let slip. But there was obviously another way to find out, and Harry Potter had done so.

* * *

Harry sat with his eyes closed, his legs folded under him and his hands resting on his knees.

After Hermione's departure from Divination earlier in the year, a new more Ministry like teaching program was put into place. Unfortunately, they still had the crazy Trelawney teaching them. She seemed slightly more subdued, however as she thought the course. While it was interesting as she taught them the basics of magic, as she was doing this lesson, there were also the prophecy telling, future seeing, nonsense in alternate lessons. They switched - every Tuesday a Basic Magic teaching, and every Thursday a mad lesson, as he and Ron had come to call them. He'd only had the lesson two months and he was starting to see why Hermione had stormed out. He was good at it though, he admitted to himself. And hopefully with whatever dreams he was having he would only get better. He had to top Hermione at something, after all.

"Breathe," crowed Professor Trelwaney, bounding around the classroom like a woman possessed. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. _Breeaathee."_

Harry breathed. He was pretty good at breathing. Certainly as good as anyone else in the room. Top marks for breathing.

"Let your body relax," Professor Trelawney said, in her 'mystic, magical' voice that he hated so much. "Listen to my voice. My voice is the only voice. My words are the only words. Let them fill you, like water fills a jug, or like tea fills a cup. Magic is like water, is it not? It ebbs and it flows. It nourishes. It destroys. It is all things."

Harry could hear his classmates around him. One of them made a whistling noise when they breathed in. It was faintly distracting, but Harry did his best to push it from his mind. He was actually getting relaxed now. The adrenaline was gone from his system. His teeth no longer chattered. His hands no longer trembled.

Professor Trelawney continued to talk. "It doesn't matter what you choose to use your magic for, be it to open your Inner Eye, or cast offensive magic, or perform a simple _Reparo_ \- because magic is a wonderous thing. It relies on the same muscles, you could say. We draw from the well of magic. You can _feel_ it can't you? All around us?"

The whistling was getting louder. How come nobody else was getting annoyed by it?

"We are not magic's masters," said Trelawney, "any more than a windmill is master of the wind. But the windmill allows the wind to push it, to move it, to power it. The wind? The wind is indifferent to the windmill, because the wind is something vast and unknowable. The same with magic."

Now Harry was confused. Was magic water or wind?

"It comes from the great well of magic, and it seeps into our world," Trelawney continued her crazy ramble. "How much of our world is defined by magic? How much is dependent on the energies it produces?"

Harry cracked one eye open. It was Ron. Ron and his musical nostrils preventing Harry from finding his 'centre' or whatever it was he was supposed to be finding. He frowned. Was it his centre he was looking for? Was it something else? Had he missed it? He probably hadn't been paying attention. He was always doing that.

Ah, his dreams. Yes. He needed to focus on them. Having being thinking about it for most of the lesson, he had come up with a fair few ideas. Meaning two. The first one was the obvious one - Tell Dumbledore. Harry was resigned to the fact that he simply had no idea what was happening at the moment, but hopefully, Dumbledore would be able to shed some light on the situation. The greatest wizard of their time had to hold some kind of knowledge about this stuff.

The second idea was to tell Ron and Hermione. This was the one he wasn't _too_ sure about. Hermione would go off her rocker with worry, or not believe him at all. Ron would laugh zat him until he felt stupid, much in the same way Hermione would probably bring facts to the table that proved the whole thing was normal. Hermione would never laugh at him, and he liked to think that she would believe him, but he still wasn't sure if he could tell her this or not. It wasn't like she told _him_ everything. Harry wasn't to concerned whether that was a fair statement or not at the moment.

One thing was for sure though, and that was that he needed to find out how much of these dreams and strange memory flashes were true. He had lucked out in Hermione's time turner, but he didn't want to go making accusations and demands without being sure his rather suspicious information was correct. Such as telling people that Sirius Black was innocent, when it could turn out to not be the case. He didn't want to get his hopes up...

"Now remember, students. You can use this in _any_ subject to assist you." Trelawney was saying, before she started to mutter herself in a decidedly Snape like fashion "though I doubt you have the brains to remember that. That's the end. Go, and look to the future with wonder."

Harry rolled his eyes at that, and started to make his way to Dumbledore's office. He reached the statue and swallowed nervously. How did you get access to the office without a password? Did you just knock? Harry nodded to himself, and rapped his knuckles on the stone head of the gargoyle once, before hissing and snatching his hand back. Lesson learned: Don't hit stone.

Blowing on his knuckles, he huffed slightly. Trying multiple different types of sweets didn't seem to work, and he was about to turn away when he heard a low chuckling.

"The Headmaster has agreed to allow you entry." The gargoyle smirked, before jumping aside to reveal the staircase beyond.

"Oh, _now_ he's agreed to let me i- wait. Has he been watching this whole time?" Harry raged.

Snickering, the gargoyle nodded.

"Jammy, child-labouring, whiskey old dodder," Harry murmured to himself angrily as he made his way up the stairs and knocked on the door at the top of them.

"Come in," called the suave voice of Professor Dumbledore. "Do not let the door slam behind you."

Harry grumbled as he entered the room, gently closing the door behind him and making his way towards the desk. As he entered the room, he suddenly felt nervous and all anger was forgotten. Now he was just a thirteen year old boy in the Headmaster's office, and whether he was there by choice or not, it was never a good place to be in your school years. It was when Dumbledore asked the reason for his being here that the ridiculousness of the whole situation struck him. Time travel was real. Not only was it real, it was controlled by a fourteen year old girl, who just so happened to be his best friend. He knew this because of crazy dreams from the future that he couldn't possibly explain. Professor Lupin was a werewolf. Sirius Black was a dog. Sirius black was _innocent,_ and _Scabbers,_ of all creatures, was the true traitor to his parents death. He married Hermione in the future. Of course, the biggest one being that Voldemort returns. Now that was a huge one. Finding all of this out in the space of a morning was enough to make anybody's head explode.

"I think I'm going mad, Professor." Harry told the older man meekly.

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, leaning forward. "I'm sure that's not the case. Please tell me why you have drawn this conclusion."

So he did. He told Dumbledore everything. From waking up that morning, to the first dream, to the second dream, every tiny detail, every word said. About the impossibility of it, but the apparent realism as he had accurately predicted Hermione's time turner, which Dumbledore agreed nobody could know about. He told him about reflexes he hadn't previously had, and routines that he had never run but now screamed for him to do in his head. At the end of it all, Dumbledore just sat there in silence.

"I do not believe you are mad, Harry. Some of those things you just cannot have made up. And if they are true, then logic dictates that the rest is also. Only time will tell." Dumbledore said quietly. "I'm not sure that there is anything I can do Harry, other than tell you these nuggets of information. The reason you got these memories is likely because of an event that the you from the future caused. I haven't heard of something along these lines happening before, but there is always a first for everything. The fact that I have not heard of any events like this is no great testimony either. Why would I have heard, if the future has been changed? This could have happened a thousand times, and altered the lives we were meant to live without us even knowing.

I will need you to come back to the office after dinner tonight. There is much you have given me to ponder over, and even more you have given us to discuss. Before you go Harry, you must know that these 'flashes' are likely going to continue. If a future version of you has, in fact, sent his memories back, then you will be getting all of these, an alternate history right from that Harry's earliest memory. I beg of you to not tell anybody this just yet Harry. Not even your friends. And remember, that whatever you see, do _not_ act on it. You can't rewrite history, Harry, not one line. That much is imperative." Dumbledore finished seriously. "Come back tonight. We shall talk more then. Thank you for coming to me with this, Harry."

And so Harry left Dumbledore's office, three times more confused than when he had entered. It was going to be a long day waiting for dinner.

 **a/n: Reupload cause likes to screw with me. This is why I mostl stick to hpfanficarchive.**

As you can likely tell from my stories, I just write down ideas that spring to mind and see where they go. That's kind of the reason I haven't gotten too far on my other stories. I get an idea, I write it down and send it out and usually never think of it again for quite some time. I don't just write them down quickly, either. My chapters are (on average) a short 3,000 - 4,000 words long and it takes me like three weeks to write one. I'm not the best at this by any stretch of the imagination, and I have little to no clue what I'm doing. I try and update as often as I can, but sometimes I just can't get into the writing mood, or I'll be distracted. I get distracted easily. Like now. I seem to have lost track of this little AN, and I'm not sure where it's going, but I know where it started and that's what I want you to remember.

Anyway, leave a review if you enjoyed it. I might not write very quickly, but I love reading the reviews. It makes it all worth it.


	2. Original Sin

**_Original Sin_**

There hadn't been any more of these strange flashbacks yet, and it was nearly dinner.

Harry frowned to himself. Were they technically called flashbacks, if he was remembering events that hadn't happened yet? Or where they flash- _forwards_? Flashforwadseses? Now that just sounded silly. That wasn't even a word. But then, when you think about it, weren't all words made up at one point? Harry shook his head. He was getting off topic. What had he been thinking about again? Ah, yes, Flash-forwadseses. No, they weren't flash forwards, or Flashforwadseses for that matter. They were... _strange_. That was for damn sure. But what could he call them?

He shrugged, and decided that 'weird flashbacks to the future' had a nice ring to it, even if it was a bit long. He could think of something later.

Hermione hadn't asked anything about his knowledge of the time-turner outright yet, though Harry had a sneaky suspicion that was because she didn't want to reveal it to Ron. Harry could understand that. After six years of Hogwarts with the redhead, and five years hunting Horcruxes, he knew that he could get jealous over the smallest things.

Harry felt his head start to throb again. Six years? Six years at Hogwarts? Harry was pretty sure they were only in their third. Damn future memories messing with his normal ones. And what was a Horcrux?

Harry groaned, knowing what was coming. As predicted, the pain increased, and all of the lessons about Merope Gaunt, Tom Riddle and the knowledge about Horcruxes from Dumbledore three years from now sprung to mind.

Over the day, Harry had realised that it was the initial memory of the event that hurt. Once he had remembered it, he could recall it perfectly without pain. He supposed that was a good thing, all things considered. Not that there was much to consider. He did have one downside, besides the pain that accompanied the initial remembrance. That was that sometimes it seemed he was only getting half a story, like only hearing one half of a conversation. It was frustrating, to say the least. Supremely annoying at most.

Harry was snapped out of his peaceful thought train by one Hermione Granger grabbing his upper arm and hauling him down a side corridor, at a small place where the halls adjoined. He was surprised to see that mere moments later, another version of himself and Hermione rushed down the corridor to catch up with the Ron that Hermione had just dragged him away from. The other Harry gave him a wink, before sliding out of view. Turning to _his_ Hermione, the one with him at present, he gave her a quizzical look.

"We need to talk," She said seriously, before grabbing him by the collar if his robes and pulling him close, pressing their bodies together. Harry could feel her warm curves being pressed up against him, the top of her hair being pressed into his nose and suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. He hoped Hermione wouldn't notice his... _discomfort._ However _,_ ifshe did, she didn't mention it. Harry wasn't quite sure what was happening until Hermione slipped the time turner around both their necks, and gave it one, two, _three_ spins. He was about to make a quirky, sarcastic response when the world seemed to implode, and then explode back outwards into colour. Into normality.

Harry blinked.

So that was time travel. Wow. Just... _Wow_. It was one thing to remember it; something entirely different to experience it firsthand.

"Since you know so much," Hermione said huffily, "I'm assuming you know what I just did. We have three hours before we'll be missed."

"Y-Yeah," Harry stuttered, his breath hot on Hermione's neck. "I know what you did. Time turner?"

" _How_ do you know about that?" Hermione squeaked, realising they were still pressed together as close as physically possible. Blushing, she jumped back, and they continued walking to somewhere they wouldn't be seen. It wouldn't do to run into anyone when they were supposed to be in Potions.

"It came to me in a dream," Harry said waving his hands as he realised how stupid he sounded. He grinned, putting on a mystic voice. "Ooooooohh..."

"Don't be like that, Harry." Hermione snapped. "I left Divination to get away from that. Now please, tell me. How _do_ you know?"

"Honestly, I'm not even joking." Harry told her with a sigh, all thoughts about Dumbledore's instructions to tell no-one going out the window. This was _his_ Hermione. His best friend. His other half. Of course he was going to tell her. "I've been having these really weird premonition type things - oh! That's what I can call them! Premonitions!"

Seeing Hermione's unimpressed look, he sobered, and continued. "I've been to see Dumbledore, and he thinks that they're real. Me asking about the time turner was just a test, to see if I was going crazy or not."

Hermione was staring at him, wide eyed. Harry kept going.

"Now, I know you're against seeing into the future with everything that you are, and that you think it's completely fraudulent," Harry shrugged. "If I'm honest, I agree. But this is different. Professor Dumbledore thinks that I - the future me, I mean, sent my memories back to try and change what happened."

"Why?" Hermione asked quietly, her brain warring with itself. On one hand, this was Harry. She knew that he was against lying fully, unless it was absolutely necessary, and would never lie to her especially. On the other, she couldn't believe that Divination could possibly be true. "What happened?"

"I'm still not sure," Harry admitted, running a hand through his hair to rub the back of his neck. "I've not remembered it all yet. It's still coming back to me. In flashes that is. But if I had to guess, something pretty terrible to make me send my memories back."

"Is that what that was this morning then? In the dormitory?" Hermione quizzed. "When you randomly started grabbing your head like someone had just smacked you with a tennis racquet?"

"Interesting terminology," Harry said dryly, "but yes."

"It explains some things about today as well." Hermione was talking to herself now, overcome with excitement at the possibilities of sending memories back in time. "Most likely your personality would have gone back with these memories, or at the very least, these memories will affect how you react to things compared to how you usually would, even if you didn't realise it!"

Harry nodded slowly. "It's hard not to see him as a different person. Me. Future me, that is." He huffed. "This is confusing."

"Go on," Hermione prompted ever so slightly impatiently.

"I don't know, Hermione." Harry sat down at a desk, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. "I get these strange streams of memory at random words, like some messed up game of word association and it _hurts._ But when I go over them..." Harry hesitated, before continuing, "When I go over them, I see somebody who's had a completely different life to me. He's laughed, and loved, and cried and was even _married -_ I mean, I've never had that. Not in the way he has. My brain says that he can't be me, despite what the memories show."

Hermione sat on the desk that Harry sat at, and faced him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, causing him to look up. "That man might not be you yet, and he might never be. But you can learn from his mistakes Harry. You can _change the future._ "

"Dumbledore said I couldn't." Harry said miserably into his hands, before wiping them downwards and leaning back in his chair. Hermione observed him with caring eyes. "' _You can't rewrite history, Harry. Not one line._ '" Harry paused momentarily, before letting out a long breath he didn't know he had held. "God, Hermione, you should have seen it. I suppose you did in a way. The sky was on fire. The streets were cracked. The lampposts were bent, and snapped. And you were there. You were there with me through it all..."

* * *

Harry wasn't sure of the exact time, but he was content with the sleeping Hermione resting on his shoulder. Five more minutes before they needed to go find Ron for dinner.

He took a sniff of Hermione's bushy head, and inhaled deeply. _Green apples and something else._ Harry frowned, not quite being able to figure out what it was.

Hermione had taken the story well. He had half expected her to laugh at him, or mock him for believing in 'seeing into the future'. But she hadn't done any of those things. She'd listened. Understood. Been caring. So of course, Harry had left out the part about Hermione being his wife, and the part about her dying. She hadn't asked who he was married to yet and for that he was thankful, but he did wonder why she wasn't a _little_ curious. After all, if it had been Hermione who had the freaky premonitions, and it turned out she was married in the future, he would have wanted to know instantly who it was, if they were worthy, that sort of thing. But then again, Hermione didn't seem to care, and he didn't quite know how to feel about that.

He rubbed her shoulder slightly as she shifted in her sleep. He rested his head on top of hers, and let his eyes drift shut.

 _There was a wind._

 _Harry didn't know where it had come from. Just a moment ago it had been a still day._

 _A moment?_

 _A minute?_

 _An hour?_

 _But now there was a wind, a strong wind, catching the clouds of dust and spinning them into little tornadoes of debris. He turned over onto his back. Dust in his eyes. Dust in his mouth._

 _He was cold. He'd lost his jacket. The shockwave had yanked it away from him. Was he hurt? He wriggled his toes. Wriggled his fingers. No broken bones. Was he bleeding? Probably. Overall, he was OK. He was unhurt. He wasn't overly sure if the same could be said for Voldemort. He had probably used up the last of his strength during the... what? What was that? That was more than an explosion._

 _Groaning, Harry sat up._

"Thank you, Harry." Hermione said quietly.

"Huh?" Harry murmured incoherently, waking up with a slight start, relaxing when he saw his surroundings. "Oh, no problem. For what though?

"For telling me all this." Hermione explained. "I know that you know that I don't believe in any of this, so it must have taken a lot to tell me."

"Sure," Harry grinned slightly. "It only took you kidnapping me through a device that manipulates the space time continuum, and giving me no other choice. Should I start calling you Doctor?"

Hermione absentmindedly slapped his chest. "Prat. You know what I mean. I am confused though. Professor Dumbledore thinks these... _memories,_ of yours,-"

"Premonitions," interrupted Harry. "It sounds cooler."

"I refuse to call them that. This whole thing is mad enough as it is." Hermione said in a stubborn tone, which clearly told him she would hear no more on the topic. "Anyway, Dumbledore thinks that these are a message to you, so that you can change the future, right?"

"So he says," Harry nodded.

"Then why won't he let you change the future? If you've told him everything that you've told me, then this is a godsend, a chance to avoid such a disastrous... _future._ " She said the final word with distaste. He smiled slightly at her indignation against Divination.

"I'm still stuck on why you're still listening to my nonsense," Harry admitted. "I'm not fully convinced myself that _I_ haven't gone around the bend. Let alone you."

Hermione giggled a bit. "Let's not rule that out just yet, eh?" She snuggled in closer to him, causing Harry to give a hum of comfort. "You've never lied to me. You hate liars. You would only ever do it if you had no other choice." She blushed slightly as she said the next part. "And... I would like to think that you would never lie to me."

"I didn't realise you knew me so well," Harry said, slightly shocked by her sincerity. "And no, I wouldn't. I'm glad you believe me. I just would have thought that this is a little more than an 'I would never lie to you', type moment."

"I won't lie, I don't _want_ to believe it." Hermione admitted. "And every part of me is telling me not too, but I believe in _you_ Harry. There are things in the world that defy explanation. I'm willing to suspend my disbelief until we find out exactly what it is that's going on here, and if it turns out not to be the case, know that I would not think any less of you."

Hermione grinned. "You're stuck with me, Harry. No matter what happens."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," the now smiling boy said, squeezing Hermione in for a tight, one-armed hug. Hermione blushed at the sincerity of his statement, much as he was by her own, but relaxed into the rarely given hug by her best friend with glee.

"And now, dearest Hermione," Harry said in an overly gentlemanly tone, linking arms with her. "We must catch up with our younger selves. You've been asleep for quite some time. A rest that you've earned mind you, what with all your running from one lesson to another."

Harry snorted; "Only you would volunteer to double the length of your school days but not your amount of sleep."

"True," Hermione admitted. "I do need to relax more. Like now. We're relaxing now. Do we have to go? I kind of like this..."

Realising the admission she had just made, she once again blushed, but didn't retract her statement.

Harry, being Harry, let the implications of such a statement fly over his head. "Me too. But you know better than I do what Ron would be like if we magically vanished from behind him, for no reason."

Hermione's eyebrow arched slightly. "Magically? Did you forget that we might be, perhaps, in a _magical_ world?"

"Sometimes I forget the finer parts of this world, Hermione." Harry pretended to sniffle. "There's no need to mock me."

"I know what you mean though," Hermione said, conveniently ignoring him. "Let's go. My knowledge has been satisfied for the moment."

* * *

Harry hadn't quite realised it at the time, but now that he was looking back on it, he noticed that he had overlooked one massive, glaring, terrifying aspect of one of his premonitions. ( _Take that, Hermione._ He mentally challenged.) That one thing he had overlooked was, in fact, Horcruxes.

Horcruxes. God _damn_ Horcruxes.

Voldemort was immortal. No wonder he had seen him in that dream of his, if he had Horcruxes. _Seven_ of the bloody things to top it off.

No, with Horcruxes he could have survived. They would have prevented his death quite soundly. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about it lest he collapse in the middle of the Great Hall thanks to a premonition overload. Hermione however, always the perceptive one, clearly noticed something was up with him. She silently asked him if he was alright, and he managed a forced smile that didn't tell her a thing.

Now he had a moral quandary on top of everything.

Did he tell Hermione about the Horcruxes? Obviously, she was going to find out at some point, but did he need to tell her right now? Was it right to burden her with the knowledge of an upcoming war started by a sycophant, that from her point of view at least, had long since died? Did he have that right, to snatch away her childhood? On the opposite side of the spectrum, did he have the right to not give her the choice? Did he have the right to not let her become the best she could, in hopes to defeat Voldemort?

Did he just not want her to be in danger? Was it his right to decide that?

Huffing, Harry viciously stabbed a sausage. _Twice damned teenage hormones. Who the hell knows what they mean? God knows I don't._

After a couple of minutes of torturing his food, but never actually eating it, Harry, Ron and Hermione left for the common room. Ron and Harry chatted animatedly about Quidditch for a minute or so, before Hermione joined their conversation with a simple question about what they wanted for Christmas. It was nice to be able to have simple conversations about meaningless things, especially with all of this future knowledge he had rattling around in his head.

 _Bloody hell, future me. What on earth have you saddled me with?_

They got to the common room with minutes to spare before curfew. Harry lightly fingered the note that Dumbledore had delivered to him at lunchtime, which allowed him out of any detentions or point deductions should he be seen out after curfew.

"Right, Ron. I've got to go to Dumbledore's office," Harry said. "I'll probably be back late though, 'cause, you know, it's Dumbledore."

"What's Dumbledore want you for anyway?" Ron asked curiously. "You said you had to go at lunch, but you didn't say why."

"Not a clue. I can guess though," Harry said. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. "I'll see you later, mate."

"See you," Ron said, waving slightly before turning to Fred and George who seemed suddenly interested in their younger brother; Harry could only hope that Ron was bright enough to see the prank coming. Luckily, his ginger friend seemed to be exerting some caution. That was until his hair shimmered slightly, and turned a dark green and silver. His robes turned bright pink, and his tie as orange as his hair used to be. Snickering, Harry left the common room for Dumbledore's office.

He was about halfway down the corridor from the portrait when he heard Hermione behind him.

"Harry! _Harry!_ Wait up!" She whisper-shouted, trying to get his attention without being too loud.

"Catch up," Harry said bluntly, but stopped anyway to allow his friend to catch him. When she did he turned to her. "Any reason you have decided to join me on my super sneaky, elusive, mission to the Headmaster's office?"

"Because, _Mr. Bond_ ," Hermione said mockingly, "I know now. I don't want you to just regurgitate Dumbledore's words back to me - I want to hear them first hand. Let's go."

Harry shrugged. "Good an argument as any." He held out his arm and she linked hers with his. "Why, Dorothy, where are we going?"

Hermione grinned, liking this new, cheekier Harry. "Why, to see the wizard of course."

They skipped down the corridor, singing _'_ _We're off to see the wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz',_ quietly, under their breaths as they went; only stopping to run from the fifth floor corridor to the seventh in a desperate bid to get away from Argus Filch and his demented cat. Harry could swear he heard it hissing as they ran.

The pair continued on in a somewhat more muted conversation. They still spoke, but in quieter, more subdued tones. They were well aware that some of the portraits pretended to sleep, only to report any rule-breakers when they thought they had gotten away with it. There had been a few close calls, one where Harry and Hermione had been pressed up against each other in a broom closet to escape from a corridor stalking Snape, and another where they had held their breath behind a suit of armour to outflank Professor Sprout. The knight gave them a noisy salute as they walked away, causing them to rush down the corridor at three and a half times the speed of sound once again, as Sprout came back to investigate the noise.

Bright red and flushed from the running about the castle, the two teens arrived in front of the stone gargoyle that marked the staircase to Dumbledore's office. It leapt aside soundlessly.

Hermione, not having visited the office before jumped out of her skin with the gargoyles sudden movement. Light spilled into the previously dark corridor from the new doorway, and Hermione's hand found Harry's, albeit unintentionally.

Harry gave her hand a squeeze, before he led her up the stairs, and blushing, she let go of his hand as they reached the top. He raised his hand to knock when a soft voice from within called out. "Enter."

Harry smiled at Hermione and pushed the handle down and into the door, opening it for her. He tapped her lightly when she didn't immediately step through the doorway, and she jumped once more. Glaring daggers, she entered the office followed by a bemused Harry.

Dumbledore was not sat at his desk as Harry had expected. Instead he was to the side of the room, his tongue poking out lightly and a look of intense concentration on his face. His glasses had three magnifiers on one lens, and he was using what looked like a scalpel on a stone bowl. He lay down the scalpel and stood up fully as Harry and Hermione entered the room.

Hermione looked nervous. She knew that, technically, she wasn't supposed to be there.

If Dumbledore objected to her presence, however, he didn't make it known. "Good evening, Miss Granger. Harry. I presume you both have questions about tonight?"

"Yes sir," Harry answered whilst Hermione tried to find her voice. "The main one being what it is we're doing, exactly?"

Dumbledore's eyes brightened and he ushered them over to the stone bowl. With a smile on his face he crouched down next to it, and Harry and Hermione mimicked his actions on either side of him. He put his arms around the pair of Gryffindors and looked at both of them with childish indulgence. "Can either of you tell me what this is?"

Hermione dropped to her knees to get more comfortable. "Erm, it's a Pensieve, sir. Am I right?"

"Indeed you are, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore beamed. "A Pensieve especially modified by myself so that not only can it accept and view memories, but also force young Harry here to fully remember the final moments before his older self sent these memories back. It should be the last five or six hours, and will allow us a deeper insight into what made this version of Harry send his memories back. Unfortunately, it is only a stepping stone. All of the other days, years and hours of your life will have to be remembered manually."

Hermione looked quite alarmed. "But, Professor! How can you know that your modifications are correct? What if something goes wrong? What if-"

"As a Master in Runes, Arithmancy, and the Language of Magic, I believe I know what I've done," said Dumbledore, not unkindly. "I am no Apolline Delacour at runes, but I ask that you trust me, Miss Granger. Now give me but a moment, and I shall be ready."

Harry stood up and took Hermione's shoulders, leading her into a standing position also. They watched, intrigued as Dumbledore carved sigils and runes into the stone of the bowl, the scalpel like object cutting through the stone just as easily as it did air. Hermione was chewing her bottom lip nervously, and had even started biting her nails at one point; not something that she usually did except in moments of extreme worry, or stress. Harry wasn't sure whether he felt honoured that Hermione was so worried about him, or despair that she was that worried at all. He stepped closer to her, and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. She smiled up at him gratefully.

A few minutes later, Dumbledore had finished muttering to himself about 45 degree angles and the length of cuts, and stood up; "There! I believe I have done. I am quite proud of this, as should it work, and I have no reason to believe it will not, Then I have just re-invented our understanding of human memory. Should it not, I now have some very fancy engravings for my Pensieve as a constant reminder for myself to not make the same mistakes twice." He whirled around to them, and it seemed nothing would be able to wipe the smile from his face. "Well, come on! Let us see if it works."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, silently agreeing that those words were not entirely comforting to someone who was about to be hooked up to a heavily altered magical device, of which the creator was ' _relatively sure_ ' would work.

"Now Harry," Dumbledore bubbled. "If you would kindly just sit here, I shall get this ready. You should start reliving these memories from your own perspective, whereas Miss Granger and I shall view them in typical memory fashion, like a normal Pensieve. Are you ready?"

Completely baffled, Harry shook his head. "No. _'Typical memory fashion?'_ I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

Hermione looked down. "I-I have to agree with Harry, sir. I don't know what it is you're talking about."

"I'm sorry, Harry, Miss Granger. I find myself forgetting small details in my excitement. Such as the both of you being mere children and not capable of understanding complicated magical terms, or that I told you not to tell anyone of these memories of yours, Harry."

Harry had a sinking feeling in his chest, one you only really got when you had been caught in trouble. Like a toddler with his hands inside the cookie jar, Harry froze. Dumbledore simply chuckled, muttering something Harry wasn't quite sure he heard correctly.

"Oh, to be young and in love..." He raised his voice to a more audible level, causing both Harry and Hermione's faces to flush with colour. "It matters not, as she is clearly already aware of these events, and we cannot change the past. Or can we?" Dumbledore chortled at his own joke. "Am I to assume that Mr Weasley is also aware?"

"No, Professor," Harry answered, eager to not be told off. "Hermione only knows because I remembered her Time-Turner." He frowned. "You know, it sounds really strange when you put it like that..."

Hermione slapped him upside the head playfully. "Stop smothering us with your knowledge and show us."

She turned to Dumbledore, a sheepish smile on her face; "I've, erm, I've read about Pensieves, but they're supposed to be quite rare, and not many books said what actually happened when inside one."

Harry's eyes bulged slightly, and he swivelled to look at the small bowl. " _Inside?_ "

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Miss Granger, once inside you will view Harry's very _memories_ from a third person perspective, as will I. Usually, when memories are viewed in the Pensieve, all of the viewers see from a third person point of view, but as we are extracting these memories _from_ Harry's mind, he will not be joining us in the Penseive. He will be sitting on that chair viewing these memories as though he was there."

Dumbledore gestured to a rickety looking wooden chair with intricate symbols and runes etched into it.

Hermione looked torn. "So the Penseive is connected to that chair? And the modified Penseive allows us to essentially... hijack, Harry's mind?"

"That is correct," Dumbledore nodded.

"But is that not an invasion of privacy?" Hermione blurted. "It's not just his memories we're viewing, but his mind."

Dumbledore shook his head softly. "Not true for Harry, my dear. It is my hypothesis that with such an overload of information, his brain will try to offload the most recent memories to free up space."

Hermione still looked penseive about it. "But... But could you not use this as a way to forcibly read someone's mind? If you forced someone to sit on that chair, then you could have free reign in their mind!"

Dumbledore looked at her over his heavily edited half-moon spectacles. "Quite correct, Miss Granger. I see that you truly are the smartest witch of your age. However, in my hands I assure you that they are quite safe."

Hermione still looked unsure, and looked like she would have argued more, but Harry stepped in. "Don't worry, 'Mi. This is Professor Dumbledore. I doubt he would ever use them for anything... _sinister_."

"But someone could still steal them!" Hermione cried.

"If anybody could penetrate the Hogwarts wards, get through the door and all of the protections surrounding this office, Miss Granger," Dumbledore tittered. "Then they have more than earned it. The only way anybody could enter this office is with my express permission."

Hermione huffed, but it didn't seem she would argue anymore.

Harry embraced her and squeezed her lightly. "Hey, don't worry. I don't have anything to hide from you." He smiled gently. "Now are you ready to jump into the pit that is my mind? You've asked a couple times about what goes on in there..."

Hermione managed a smirk of her own, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm not going to see you in any... compromising, positions now, am I?"

Harry laughed awkwardly. "Merlin, I hope not."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Now, Harry, if you just come and sit in this chair, and Miss. Granger and I shall prepare to view these memories." He paused. "I warn you, there will be a substantial amount of pain. Much like when you get these memory flashes that you told me about, though I predict it shall be worse as you are remembering more."

Harry blew a breath sharply out through his mouth as Hermione's eyes widened again; she looked like she was about to cry. "What the hell? Let's do it."

"Harry, _no_!" Hermione begged. "We can find a more painless way to do it, we just need more time! We can get another way to find ou-"

Harry gave her one last hug before going to sit in the chair. "Hermione, the only other way would be to remember it normally, as far as I'm aware, and that would take far too long. I'll just have to deal with it."

Tears leaked from Hermione's eyes. "But so will I."

Harry felt his heart break, but simply gave her a sad smile.

Dumbledore looked quite upset by what he was about to do. "Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry steeled himself, and gave a shaky nod. "Punch it."

Dumbledore only hesitated slightly before he brushed his fingers over the sigils carved into the chair. They lit up; an other worldly light emanating from the cuts. Harry tensed, and sat ramrod straight, his eyelids fluttering, his mouth open. His nose was bleeding.

"Stop it," Hermione wailed at Dumbledore. "Make it stop, please! You're hurting him! You're _killing_ him!"

Dumbledore had gone white, but he remained determined. "I cannot. If you'll take a look." He turned, and Hermione had to tear her gaze from the silently screaming Harry, tears freely flowing down her face.

The sigils etched into the Pensieve were glowing as well, pulsing with purple light which illuminated the whole room. Suddenly, they stopped pulsing, and brightened dramatically. As they did so, all of the torches in the room extinguished, causing the paintings which had been watching curiously to cry out in shock. Fawkes trilled, glowing with a gentle fire in the sudden darkness.

The only light now came from Fawkes and the Pensieve, as the chair stopped emitting light. Hermione and Dumbledore's faces we're illuminated in the white light of the Penseive, and the purple light of its runic modifications.

"We only get one chance at this, Miss Granger." Dumbledore said seriously. "We must enter the Pensieve now, and pray that it works."

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Simply do what I do," Dumbledore instructed, before promptly sticking his face in the Penseive.

Hermione swallowed, before doing the same.

* * *

Hermione spasmed slightly, and she felt like she was falling.

Falling with no way to stop. When she did stop, and when she opened her eyes, she was somewhere that she didn't recognise. She stumbled slightly, and Dumbledore caught her.

"This is incredibly strange," he murmured. "There are always visions of the future, but it is something different entirely to experience it."

People rushed around them, and rubbish was stacked up against tents in corridors. It looked like a refugee camp. Harry Potter, clad in black combat trousers, and a tight white T-shirt entered the room, and Hermione caught herself blushing. The tight shirt revealed a bit too much for her fourteen year old brain to handle. He wore his dark hair short, and his dark beard tight, and had an uncharacteristically serious look on his face.

The room Harry had entered was large, with a low ceiling and a long table in the middle. Around the table stood at least twenty odd people, some of whom Hermione recognised, most of whom she didn't.

"So," the future Harry said. "We can expect Voldemort's forces to be here in, what, two hours? Are we even ready for this?"

A taller, older version of Hermione grimaced at him. "Likely not. The best we can do is get the muggles to the bunkers. They don't need to be here. This isn't their fight."

A man who Hermione had never seen before snarled angrily. "This is as much of our fight as it is yours. You can send the young'uns down, and all of those that don't want to fight, but you aren't leaving us out of this."

There was an uncomfortable pause.

The future Hermione broke it. "I'm sorry, you're right. You make the call. Tell every muggle over the City Link that wants to fight, to take up arms."

The man nodded curtly before leaving the room.

Future Harry grinned at the future Hermione. "The wall should hold, and so should the shield. Draco's designed it to stop incoming spellfire, and stop anyone from walking directly through it. The only way they get in is by Apparation. This helps us manage the threat as they won't be expecting such a strange tactic."

"The last Mudblood city," snorted an older Malfoy. "Who would of thought I'd be defending it?"

"Who would have thought you'd have your arm replaced by Mudblood technology?" Hermione shot back, and the younger Hermione realised that her older counterpart was right - Malfoy's arm from the shoulder down looked almost robotic.

Harry ignored them. "Get every Auror, Battle Auror, Hit Wizard, soldier, sniper, or anyone who can use long range weapons up on the wall. They'll try and bring the Dark Mark ward down first, and we need to stop that. There is no way the Resistance is going down without a fight. This is our last stand, everybody. Make it count."

Harry turned at that, and the table exploded into movement, everyone getting to their stations and preparing for the incoming siege.

The future Harry walked out, followed by his tomeline's Hermione who hugged him. Nothing to strange about that. What shocked the younger Hermione was when she pressed a long, loving kiss to the future Harry's lips. He broke the kiss, and rested his forehead against hers. They stood there for a moment or two.

"You know, with the most powerful Dark Lord that ever lived coming for us, we should probably have The Conversation." The older Harry said, his strong arms wrapping Hermione up, and keeping her close. She moved her head and rested it on his shoulder.

"Which one would that be? The birds and the bees? I've already had it. So have you. As you showed me rather... _effectively,_ this morning." Hermione purred, causing the younger Hermione to bluster, flush and generally have a meltdown at what was being insinuated here.

"The Conversation?"

"The birds and the bees."

"Right, yes, well... I'm talking about the other conversation. The less fun one. The fact is, Hermione, going up against Voldemort... we might not make it this time."

"What? What about everything you said about accentuating the positive?"

"Again, you brought up that particular tidbit of information, being so desperate to hold onto optimism and whatnot."

"Of course we're going to make it," Hermione said, pulling back from Harry's shoulder, though still locked in an embrace. "Making it is what we do. Voldemort _will_ be defeated. All of his Horcruxes are gone, and he's mortal. We can get him."

Dumbledore stiffened beside her at the mention of the word 'Horcrux', and Hermione stiffened at her own words.

' _All of his Horcruxes are gone, and he's mortal. We can get him.'_

Did that mean, at some point, perhaps even now, that Voldemort was immortal? It certainly seemed to suggest it. Hermione felt herself go cold at the possibilities of her own statement.

"He's more than that. With his Horcruxes gone, he's not wasting any power on them. He's more powerful than ever."

"You saying he's going to win?"

Harry paused. "No. I think he will be defeated. I think we're going to be instrumental in bringing about his downfall. But it won't be without it's costs. The prophecy tells us that much."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the mention of a prophecy, though Dumbledore stiffened once more.

The older Hermione stared into Harry's eyes, and shifted slightly in his embrace. "I don't like this conversation."

"I didn't think you would. But it's something we need to acknowledge."

"Why? It's a thought were both having, and now we know we're both having it, so fine, it's there, it's out, we're discussing it, let's never discuss it again."

"One or both of us may not survive the next few hours."

Hermione twisted away from the embrace and whacked his arm. "What the _hell,_ Harry? I told you we didn't need to discuss it further! I know this! Don't you think I know this? But I don't want to talk about it! It upsets me! It makes me angry and sad and makes me want to cry! I don't want to think about living in a world where you're not in it, all right?"

"All right," he said, taking her into a hug once more before letting her go as they walked down the corridor together. "All right."

Hermione looked away tears in her eyes. Her older self seemed to have a similar reaction.

"Although I was kind of assuming you'd be the one who didn't make it," he muttered, with a slight grin.

Future Hermione whirled around indignantly. " _What_? Why am I the one who dies?"

Harry shrugged. "It seems like the type of thing you'd do. I'd find a way to cheat death at the last second, but you... you're just not that bright."

"I... I can't believe you just said that."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way."

She folded her arms. "I'm not talking to you anymore. I don't know why I _ever_ talk to you."

"Because we're married? Because you love me? Because I love you?" Harry said with sincerity, pressing the older Hermione into a tender kiss. She seemed so happy. Then he gave her an evil smirk. "Or maybe you tried talking to yourself, but were starved of intelligent conversation?"

With every admission Hermione grew an even deeper red. _Married_? To _Harry_? She would be lying if she said that she had never thought about it before...

The older Hermione glared at her husband. "I'll have you know, I'm the smartest witch of our generation. I also find it incredibly worrying that the only way you know how to take my mind off my troubles is to insult me, kiss me, or shag me."

The younger Hermione, if possible, blushed an even deeper hue of crimson.

"I find it really funny."

"I know you do."

* * *

A/N: Wew! Another chapter down. I get the feeling I'm really annoying people when I keep switching the stories I update...

Anyway, this chapter is different to any others as it is the first chapter that I have had beta'd! My unending thanks to Yuilhan for that, as it has enhanced this chapter beyond belief. Touches here and there make all the difference.

If you liked, please leave a review. I love reading them.


	3. Alive

**_Alive_**

True to the future Harry's prediction, Voldemort got to the city in two hours time.

After the future version of Hermione had left for somewhere called 'The Armoury', Hermione and Dumbledore were forced to follow Harry out of the building, and into the streets. It was only then that Hermione could truly see what the Second Blood War had done to the city.

It didn't look too damaged. In fact, the extent of neglect didn't seem to extend any further than dirtiness. What was astonishingly different were the buildings, apartments houses and homes. Hermione had been to Durham before, with her parents when she was younger, and it was nothing like what she saw before her.

New buildings superimposed over the old, unsafe looking additions that seemed like they belonged in the aftermath of an apocalypse. Corrugated metal walls and wooden bridges joined buildings tens of feet in the air, and makeshift walkways connected them. The old buildings were still there, but above and around them there were all manner of improvements and modifications. Power generators, pumps with water-conjuring runes, electricity and magic working together. Muggle and wizard working in harmony. A large field of greenery stretched across what had previously been the town centre and was filled with crops, animals and other necessities for food. The city had been changed to accommodate more than it was designed for, and to be completely self sustaining.

And around the outskirts of this city, a wall, complete with watchtowers and buttresses. This wasn't a city. It was a _fortress_.

"General!" An attractive woman called to the future Harry. It took Hermione a moment to see her as an older version of Ron's sister, Ginny. "We've spotted the Death Eaters!"

"Perfect timing," Harry said dully, with an enthusiasm that wasn't quite shown on his face. A brown, leather jacket that he had added on top of his T-shirt flapped gently in the breeze. The only other addition was the holster on his left leg, which housed a bull-barrelled revolver. "Is everyone on the wall?"

"Yes sir," Ginny said breathlessly, "just waiting for you."

"Let's go then." Harry said, walking towards a circular platform directly adjacent to the wall. It took him a while to get there.

The platform itself didn't appear to be anything special. It was a plain black disk that had multiple runes surrounding the circumference of it. They pulsed with a gentle white light.

When Hermione brought this to her teacher's attention, he simply tapped his nose and smiled. "Looks can be deceiving, Miss Granger."

Not wanting to be left behind, Dumbledore and Hermione quickly rushed to stand with Harry and Ginny.

The platform moved them sideways, _inside_ the wall, and they started to rise at a frightening speed. The ceiling opened above them, revealing the inner workings of the wall as they continued to rocket skywards. Hermione had to open her mouth wide and make herself yawn so that her ears would pop. Just when she thought the ride would go on forever, the ceiling spiralled apart once more, and the wind rushed in.

Dumbledore gave her a gentle push, and the two stepped out onto a wall so thick you could park two cars side by side and still have enough room to squeeze by. Around her, the wall was packed. Men and women wearing leather trousers that looked like they were far too comfortable, but Hermione suspected were armoured in some way, and black coats lined with fur designed to stop spells. The witches and wizards wore a different colour fur, slightly darker and less comfortable looking. She supposed this was to distinguish them apart.

There were battlements on one side and a metal railing on the other, the side that looked out across the city. It was an impressive sight. Hermione felt a dizzying wave of vertigo overtake her as she looked out over it.

Was this what the human race had been turned into? Were they so powerless to stop Voldemort that he had pushed them to run away and hide? Was he _really_ that powerful?

She felt horror when she thought about everything that must have happened to get to where this future was now. This was, what, ten years into the future? Eleven? Not long from the present, and so much had happened. Magic had clearly been revealed to the muggles out of necessity, and any form of government seemed to have collapsed. Voldemort had returned and completely taken over. Could so much turmoil happen in eleven years?

Hermione did notice the absence of a couple of particular people, which made her go deathly cold. There was no Dumbledore for one. No Ron for another. The absence of Ron didn't really worry her. According to Harry - _her_ Harry, that is, - he was alive. But Dumbledore? Would he not be at the forefront of such a war? He was the first time around. She didn't like what this was suggesting. Dumbledore was smart enough that he had probably figured that out for himself.

One thing she really was worried about, however, was what her Harry had told her. He remembered a battle. A bloody and ruthless battle, that clearly hadn't happened yet.

She was going to see it.

She was going to watch all of these men and women around her die.

Dumbledore, it seemed, had come to a similar conclusion. "Miss Granger, I feel this will not be a sight for young eyes."

Hermione choked slightly; "I- I don't think I want to watch."

Dumbledore sighed gently. "I'm afraid there is no way out that I am aware of. You must let the memories run their course. If you wish, you may cover your eyes and ears."

Hermione glared at him through blurred eyes. "Oh yeah, _that'll_ help." She snarked, momentarily forgetting her respect for the man she was speaking to.

"Wizards and Witches, Muggles and Squibs," Harry said, his voice coming across loud and clear, "Friends... brothers and sisters... I stand before you tonight in the last stronghold of our resistance. Of _The_ Resistance, whose borders are even now being threatened by the enemy."

"Those Death Eaters down there!" Harry suddenly roared from only a few feet away causing her to jump in fright. The wand to his throat indicated use of the _Sonorous_ charm to amplify his voice. "Have already burned most of the rest of the United Kingdom to the ground! How many here were at the battle of London? Newcastle? Edinburgh? Cardiff? Who here remembers the Battle of Dublin? The countless children _screaming_ as it _burnt_? I do. I was there. How many have we lost, in these battles? How many have died?

"Now I know many of you are wondering what I've been doing these past years. I've heard the rumours. That I was sent off on a quest by Albus Dumbledore to fight the war in secret. To destroy Voldemort's source of immortality..." Harry paused. "Unlike most of the rumours I've been subjected too, this was true."

Loud murmurs ran through the endless people that were on the wall. They looked to each other and then back to Harry as he spoke. Hermione found herself enthralled by future Harry's rhetoric, though she was horrified by what she was hearing.

"The self-styled _Lord Voldemort,_ " Harry snarled, "Is a _living_ , _breathing_ man. And as I look around at all of you tonight, I know one thing." He paused, and looked at all of the people in front of him. "We're sure as _hell_ going to fix that!"(1)

A loud, courageous roar rippled outwards across the crowds. Hermione looked, and at a rough estimate, she would place the headcount at more than eleven thousand people.

"Tonight we stand!" Harry boomed. "Not as wizard and muggle, or friend and foe, but as the Resistance! Forget your petty rivalries with each other! Tonight is for _everyone_ we have lost! We may have been reduced to one city, but we are closer, we are _stronger_ than ever! Tonight, we will _not_ lose! _"_

* * *

For Harry, the experience of re-living memories that hadn't yet happened was something different entirely. Hermione and Dumbledore watching had full consciousness, fully aware that they were viewing a 'memory' of sorts. Harry had no such luxury.

Harry wasn't aware that he was a thirteen-year-old boy. From his point of view, he was a twenty-four-year-old, battle hardened General, who had gone through more atrocities then he would care to mention. It might not be real to Hermione and Dumbledore, but it was _very_ real to him.

"Ginny," he said, catching the attention of the pretty redhead.

"Yes, General?" She turned around, a smile on her face. "That was quite a speech you just gave. You really got them riled up."

"Good." He said shortly. "We need them at their best. How's _Primis_ coming along? How close is Draco to finishing it?"

Ginny scowled, "Malfoy says it should be done in an hour or so, provided there aren't any 'distractions' as he puts it. Sometimes I want to slap that bastard silly..."

"Remember what he did for us. For _you,"_ Harry reminded her. "He didn't have to defect. He did it to save you, and ended up saving all of us. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for him, and neither would you."

"I know," Ginny sighed. "I know. It's just hard to forget school grudges when he's so... _Malfoy."_

Harry allowed himself a grin. "I'll give you that. Tell him to move it underground somewhere. That way he won't be _distracted_ by the siege we're about to withstand. He needs to get it finished. This whole thing is pointless without it."

"Thy will be done," Ginny hummed. "It's not like you're asking for much, Is it?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." Harry smiled. "Good luck, Ginny."

"Good luck Harry." Ginny said, before abruptly turning to leave.

Harry drew a long breath, and slowly let it out. This was it. The culmination of ten years of war. Hermione joined him, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"Are you okay, Harry?" She asked, concern shining in her eyes.

"Dumbledore would have been so valuable here tonight," Harry muttered, looking out over the scorched fields that surrounded the outside of the wall. "I know technically he's here, but he doesn't even know who he is yet. He's got power, sure, more than you or I do, but it's untapped potential."

"I still can't believe it," Hermione laughed slightly. "All the jokes we made, and all this time it was on us?"

Harry allowed himself his own laugh. "I suppose."

There were a multitude of loud cracks, and swirls of blueish light in the stretch of burnt fields and forests ahead of them. With every crack, with every swirl of light, more and more Death Eaters came into existence.

And they kept coming.

A hundred. Two hundred. Five. A thousand. Two thousand. More appeared, spreading out across the wasteland. Three thousand. Five thousand.

"I make it around twelve thousand," said Hermione her eyes wide. She had known this was the final battle, win or lose, but she hadn't expected the sheer numbers that Voldemort would come with.

Harry's scar itched, and he found himself scanning the hordes of men and women desperately. He searched the faces, eyes flickering from one blurred skull visage to the next, until he found him at the back. He turned in that instance as if looking back at him. Voldemort.

Hermione could only see him as a tiny man, no bigger than the head of a matchstick, but Harry's enhanced glasses allowed him to magnify on his position. Grinning, Voldemort touched the Elder Wand to the earth, which began to rumble and crack.

Shouts went along the wall as everyone felt the earthquake. He heard the scream of protesting metal and stone behind him and a loud crash as one of the buildings in the city collapsed. Harry didn't look back. There was nothing he could do. He had to focus.

Hundreds of thousands of writhing bodies started to emerge from the ground, magic infused flesh allowing the corpses to stand straight once more. Some had hair. Most hadn't. Some were big, some were scrawny. All of them had boils or sores of some sort, as the extra magic leaked out of their bodies. They wore leather and fur, the uniform of the Resistance, but their clothes were fused into their rotting skin, a permanent reminder to the Resistance that even their fallen allies, comrades, family and friends were not safe from Voldemort. Some bulged, as though they'd been overstuffed, like their insides had yet to settle in place. Some had intestines and insides tumbling out of them. Some of them, their faces twitched like every muscle was in spasm, while others had faces so slack it was like they had no muscles at all.

The dead rose from the ground.

Inferi.

"Oh my God," Hermione said, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. "They're ours. They're our friends."

Harry didn't bother responding. He just nodded, his face an expression that could have been carved from granite. The overcast sky parted somewhat, and a ray of light illuminated the dark forces. "Well," he eventually said, raising his head slightly. "It looks like we have a fight on our hands."

* * *

The Resistance Witches and Wizards didn't bother with magic at that range. A long barrel and a bullet, that's all they needed to slow the advance. From up high on the wall, Harry couldn't see the blood. He just saw the Inferi jerk, topple and fall. One after another.

There were others among them, men and women with skull masks whose wands were lighting up. Magic screamed forth, but whilst bullets passed through the shield without slowing, magic sizzled against the invisible barrier and went no further. A one-sided battle if ever Harry had seen one. Suddenly Voldemort's great numbers didn't mean so much anymore. If they couldn't get through the shield, where was the threat?

He turned the scope of his Barret, and found himself watching a skinny man down below, shouting up at them. His words were lost long before they reached the top of the wall, but that didn't seem to bother him. He screamed and shouted and shook his fists and stamped his feet. He took his eye away from the scope, frowning, and Hermione joined him looking down.

"That's a little odd," Harry murmured.

"Looks like he's doing the hokey-cokey," Hermione commented, a smile twitching at her lips.

Harry motioned to one of the men on the wall; "Neville, if I could focus your attention on the gentleman having the tantrum."

Neville had a week's worth of stubble, and a jawbone as sharp as the blade of a sword. His broad shoulders filled out his coat. He gave Harry a look, before peering over the side. "What about him?"

"The Death Eaters aren't known for being normal, but even so, this does strike me as unusual behaviour."

Neville grunted to someone on his left, a dark-skinned girl with her hair in a ponytail. "Angelina, see that guy kicking up a fuss? Take him out before he does something weirder."

"You got it," she chirped, with enthusiasm that didn't seem to fit with her situation.

A piece of wall exploded beside her and she jerked back. "What the hell...?"

Flying curses hit the shield, sizzled, and broke through.

"He's taking down the shield," Hermione said, snatching Angelina's gun from her and lifting it to her shoulder.

She fired, and Harry raised his gun to join her, but a mindless Inferi jumped in front of the shouting man, caught the bullet in the shoulder. Harry fired this time, and again an Inferi sacrificed themselves. The shouting man spread his arms wide and stomped his feet and his words drifted above the gunfire.

Harry heard a few garbled words of old magic, and then someone on the wall was shouting, "It's down! The shield is down! The Wardstone's gone offline!"

Death Eater curses carved great scars into the wall, and smaller, less powerful darts of light, curses, flew like angry insects, pocking against the battlements. A sniper who had leaned too far screamed, dropped his rifle and staggered back, clutching his face. He fell to one knee, then toppled on to his side and went limp. When his hands fell, half of his melted face went with them.

The sense of calm evaporated. They still had the high ground and they still had their defences, but the Resistance soldiers were now ducking as they moved, scurrying from one vantage point to the next. _Reducto_ curses and _Confringo_ hexes tore chunks from the solid stone.

Hermione still had Angelina's rifle and she was popping up, taking a shot and then immediately ducking down again. Every time she popped up, it would be in a different place she had scurried too. Her hair wild, and her face a strange mixture of anger and serenity allowed her aim to ring true. Every time. The Death Eaters had already identified her as a major threat - her section of the wall was under constant bombardment.

Harry slung the sniper on his back, and grabbed an assault rifle from a still man's back beside him. Not bothering to take careful aim like he would with a sniper, he barely looked down the sights before firing into the waves of Death Eaters, Inferi, and what looked like vampires. The hail of bullets appeared to be effective, but it obviously wasn't the one-hit kill you got from a sniper.

Then someone screamed; "Giants! On the horizon!"

Harry crouched down as the merlon of the wall he was hiding behind erupted into dust. He peered above its jagged remains, and sure enough, twelve ominous black silhouettes lumbered through the haze of smoke that had previously been a forest. He felt a horrible sense of dread, even though they had prepared for this. If they got to the wall, no-one stood a chance.

"Moody!" Harry roared, not fully expecting an answer over the rumble of battle. "If you can hear me, concentrate fire on those Giants! Bullets won't do a damn thing to them, so give them everything you can from your wands! If they get here we're done for!"

"Right you are, Potter!" Harry heard faintly, to his astonishment. The grizzled Auror's face was on a part of the wall now separated by a thick gouge from a powerful _Reducto._ "All magicals, concentrate on those Giants! Remember training! _Xana Magis,_ fire everything we got at 'em!"

Brief flashes of golden light flew from the wands of the magical Resistance soldiers, the penetration spells flying far over the heads of Voldemort and his forces, and burrowing into the skin and flesh of the Giants, the deep rumbling, faraway roars they heard signifying their success.

"I hate it when people try to kill me," Hermione growled, rolling to cover beside him. Her hair was as bushy and untameable as ever, and she had a light scorch mark on her face. "It's just inconsiderate. Why don't you take me anywhere nice anymore?"

"What, aren't you enjoying yourself?" Harry said, feigning incredulity. He then licked his thumb and gently wiped away the soot on her cheek. He gave her a chaste kiss. "Hermione Potter, I swear to you, when this is over, I'm going to take you on the best honeymoon ever."

"You bloody better." Hermione said, tears starting to build up. "I'm not having you dying on me."

And with that she was gone, firing as she went.

Harry turned back to the wall, and taking his wand out, he fired a quick _Confringo_ of his own. Mud, stone, and twisted bits of pulverised bone, and shredded flesh were flung outwards in all directions. Blood sizzled and landed on others, causing them to scream as it burned like napalm. As far as Harry was concerned, the Death Eaters deserved no better.

Harry quickly stowed his wand, and crouched, bringing the rifle back up. He looked down as he reloaded. Death Eaters were mounting brooms, and flying for the top of the wall.

 _No, no, no._ This wasn't good.

He started firing on the flying enemies, and all around him people led by his example. They fell, some dead, some injured, hundreds of feet to the earth. The shout went out, and bursts of gunfire sent more Death Eaters falling, but there seemed to be a limitless supply. The amount was unmanageable, and sooner or later they had started to swarm the wall.

One of them landed beside him, and Harry swung a high kick into his head, the steel toed boots cracking his mask and sending him sprawling to the battlements. He grabbed him, and threw him off the wall. He swung around as two more landed near him, and smacked one with the butt of his gun. The Death Eater howled in pain, and grabbed the body of the rifle. The two wrestled with it, and the Death Eater's ignorance of muggle technology ended up with him gripping the trigger and ripping seven holes through his friend's chest.

He suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of happiness, and relaxed slightly, allowing the shocked Death Eater to smack him to the ground, his wand pointed at him. From his position on the ground, Harry saw those few that could firing Patronuses. Dementors had been brought to the battle, apparently.

He rolled to the side, and the green light of the killing curse erupted against the stone. The order that Harry Potter was to be killed only by the Dark Lord was long gone. Now Voldemort just wanted him dead. He didn't care how.

Harry kicked his leg out from under him, and they rolled about on the floor, throwing elbows and punches and kicks. Harry straddled him, and smashed his fist into the mask. He grunted in pain, as the mask was harder than it seemed. More Death Eaters dropped around him, and Harry briefly wondered where the hell his support was when he saw almost everyone on the wall was occupied. He received a kick to the stomach and stumbled back to the battlements. Looking down, he saw the Inferi starting to pile up the wall.

Harry caught the fist of the next Death Eater that lunged towards him, and poured his magic into their hand, causing his opponent to scream as his skin blistered and bubbled under the intense energy transfer. He grabbed the wrist of another Death Eater who had raised his wand, and crushed it. He swung the two together, and dropped to the floor, his elbow crunching down on the first Death Eater, in some type of messed up WWE move.

Someone grabbed him, and he felt a wand in his side. A whispered cutting curse cause Harry to scream, which evolved into a string of curses as he stumbled free. He tried to get to somewhere he would have a better shot, and began reaching for his wand.

"Don't let him get his wand!" One of the Death Eaters, a female Harry gathered by her higher pitch, shouted. He could imagine her eyes widening. "If he gets it we can't win!"

Even as she was saying this, however, one of her friends caught Harry, turned him towards her as she strode forward. She sneered, her mouth showing beneath her broken mask, and raised her wand for the killing blow, and then for her next trick she turned to dust.

Harry blinked. She what?

A sky-blue coloured hex smashed into the wizard behind him, and Harry fell to his knees, eyes widening as Hermione and Moody emerged from the fighting, wands in hand.

"Ye alright then, laddie?" He grunted, one eye on Harry, his other completely white. He supposed it was looking behind them. The calm wouldn't last. "I've never seen someone hold their own against nine Death Eaters in close quaters since Sirius in the first war. Damn impressive."

Harry couldn't give his thanks, as it was at that moment that Moody whirled and shot an unknown string of spells, stomping off with a battle cry.

"Are you good?" Hermione asked, panic in her eyes. She kissed his forehead, not waiting for a response. "Good. Dementors. We've already got Patronuses out, but yours is the strongest."

Harry understood what she was asking and raised his wand. " _Expecto Patronum!_ " He cried.

The glowing stag ripped itself free of his wand, and ran into battle.

The two watched it go, until they were brought to earth by a missed curse. Instinctively, Harry grabbed the fallen rifle one-handed, and punched a hole through the assailant's head. Hermione didn't even look back, as she dragged the tip of her wand across the cut. His sliced flesh knitted back together, and Hermione cast a quick _Scourigify_ to clean him of blood.

"It's not a good job," Hermione admitted. "It's a bit rushed, and it won't last, but it'll do until we can get you to Ginny, or another Healer. Can you fight?"

"I'm good," Harry said, forcing himself to his feet. "Let's go."

The two worked back to back, firing silently, with deadly force and tactical precision. Harry was amused with how this war had gone from knowing some curses and dodging them, as a magical war, to the precision and planning of a muggle one. That was, after all, what it was.

Harry gasped as his scar burst into pain, and Hermione, knowing the signs of her husband's connection to Voldemort, slammed her wand into the floor, a shockwave rippling outwards, knocking the surrounding Death Eaters off the wall. She panted heavily. Harry could see that had taken a lot out of her. He suddenly felt aware of the presence of the Dark Lord, right at the bottom of the wall. He was building up to something. This wasn't good.

"Back!" Harry gasped, before steadying himself with Hermione's help. "Everybody back!"

A ball of pure energy rose up from the Elder Wand, it's true owner's malevolent hatred fuelling the magic, and the whirling mass of blueish-white continued to rise to the top of the wall, before it slowed, and hung there. The harsh white light illuminated everything, casting black shadows. There was a moment of calm.

The ball exploded with a deafening crack. The blast lifted Hermione off her feet and flung her over the railing. Screaming, she started to fall to the city streets far below, but a hand snagged her ankle and she swung to the wall and slammed into it. She hung there, upside down, unable to even blink. The grip on her ankle was tight. Blood rushed to her head.

She was pulled up, and a hand clutched her leg and kept pulling, and now the hands were on her hips, and she was pulled under the railing and back onto the wall. She turned over, shaking, and saw the worry on Harry's face. A spell hit the wall, spraying his face with chips of rock but he didn't flinch. He kept staring at her.

"I almost lost you," he barely whispered.

She reached up and caressed his face. "Never. Until the end."

"Until the end."

Rubble listed the walkway. A clunk of the wall about the size of a bungalow was missing, and great clouds of dust rose like smoke. Harry saw Neville, looking for something. He waved to to him, watched the other man visibly relax and then turn away, getting back to work.

"We need to get off this wall," Harry said seriously, his eyes scanning around for potential foes.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking at him like he'd gone mad. "We can't _retreat._ It's a _Seige._ There's nowhere to retreat _to_."

"We aren't retreating," Harry said uncomfortably. "We're advancing in reverse."

"No. We have to fight." Hermione argued.

"Hermione, I agree, but in a minute or so Voldemort is going to see he isn't getting over this wall, so he's going to come through it. Whether that's tearing it down, or going through the gate, we _don't_ want to be up here when it happens." Harry explained. "Grab on."

Before she protested further, Harry grabbed hold of her, and they apparated to the streets below. Hermione sat up and stood up, slapping Harry across the face in one swift movement.

"God, I'd forgotten you could argue," Harry said, rubbing his face where the blow had landed. "Any reason for that?"

Hermione's eyes blazed. " _Neville. Moody. Ginny. Dean. Richard. Angelina. Katie._ Do you want me to go on? Why are we down here, and they aren't?"

"Because they have portkey's that activate the moment the wall starts to crumble," Harry said bitterly, allowing his hand to drop, and pulling her towards him for a hug. "Remember the coats? We're just getting a tactical advantage. I also need to see Ron."

Hermione blushed slightly. "I had a bloody good reason to be angry, Harry James Potter! Don't expect me to take it back."

She paused for a moment, and the sounds of fighting far above drifted to them.

"You thought I'd let them die? Our friends?" Harry asked quietly.

"No," Hermione admitted. "That was shock, mostly. I trust you completely, and I knew you had to have something up your sleeve." She paused again. "Ron's fighting in the third watchtower over."

"The one that's about to fall." Harry said.

"So he'll be portkeyed down," she realised. "You know he still thinks we hate him."

"Let him. He'll never find out the truth if this goes to plan."

* * *

"What the hell is happening up there?" Draco seethed, as he hurriedly ran his wand across walls and the metal floor. An intricate design of swirling, interconnecting circles and complex, dead languages criss-crossed the cast iron. Luna Lovegood stared at him, hard. She hadn't had that dreamy look in her eyes for a while now. Years.

"Maybe there's a God damned _war?_ " She snarled. "The fighting isn't going to stop so you can finish your damn project."

" _Our_ _'_ damn project' could very well save the world. Or at least give us a second chance at saving it," Draco met her words harshly. "I can't _afford_ any distractions. _You_ , more than _anyone_ should know that. One wrong cut, and it's all for nothing."

A loud rumble echoed far above them, and a loud crash indicated a building coming down.

"We already had to move the whole Runic Array," Draco huffed. "I just want this done."

Luna stared for a moment, but turned and continued delicately casting spells, and inscribing runes. Every once in a while she stopped to write down what they were doing. This annoyed Draco, but before he could voice his displeasure at her apparent lack of haste, a wide-eyed boy ran into the room.

"What is it!?" Draco exploded. "Can't you see we're doing something important?"

The boy panted, and raised a hand. "They've taken down the shield. We need it back up," he said, trying to regain his breath.

Draco growled his impatience, pushed past the loathsome boy, and rushed down countless corridors until he found himself under the wall. The corridors were quiet here, the sounds of conflict behind him. Ahead, voices were heard, rushed in panic, and raised in alarm. He stepped into the room.

"It's pointless trying to put up the same shield - the Death Eaters are already through. I can, however, alter it." The occupants of the room fell silent when he began, and now just stared at him. "Well don't just stare, I need help! Come on!"

* * *

They kept coming, a never-ending stream of Death Eaters and Inferi. The dead were piled so high that they could climb over each other and onto the wall. When they couldn't get past the soldiers, true to Harry's prediction, their focus shifted. They stopped trying to get over the wall and just came through it. The gates opened with a great splintering crack, and Inferi and Death Eaters swarmed in. The Resistance wizards, witches, and soldiers met them. Magic was tossed to and fro, men and women went down screaming - but up close it was battle the old-fashioned way. Blood and blade and grunts and spittle.

Harry _hated_ the old fashioned way.

The shield was back up, though it served almost no purpose now. The Dark Mark wards had all but failed, and in a last-ditch attempt, Draco had reconfigured the Wardstone to keep out Voldemort, the source of the Dark Mark's energy.

Old problems with electronics were starting to resurface. The key to making magic and technology work in harmony had been cracked in 1999 by Arthur Weasley, but the sheer amount of magic being tossed around, and the power of the spells were causing things that had previously been safe to become ticking time bombs. The technology misbehaved, activating and deactiving, exploding or just not changing.

To Harry's amusement, a car radio had gone haywire, blasting Elton Johnat full volume. ' _Saturday Night's Alright_ _'_ bellowed louder than those fighting, and there was a moment when both sides quietened, and even the Inferi seemed to slow, (but not stop, for of course they had only a single-minded focus.) It didn't last long.

Someone banished a shard of stone towards his face, and Harry transfigured it into feathers at the last moment. That started everything off again. Harry swung his wand in a circle, the feathers collecting and shifting until they had formed a massive war hammer. It dropped to the ground; Harry dived at it, and swung without looking. The hammer crunched into the side of a Death Eater's knee.

The knee caved in sideways and the Dark Wizard screamed, toppled, and landed on his elbows, still screaming. Harry stood, the Death Eater screamed up at him, and the war hammer met his face and brokered no argument.

He stepped back in exertion, and looked up for the next enemy to kill when the grey sky brightened, and turned to a fierce red of fire. Voldemort was trying to use the Elder Wand to burn the city down. It passed, and the sky returned to grey, but Harry had a brief flashback to the cinders of Dublin, and anger flared within him. He swished his wand in a cutting motion, slicing enemies apart, and fired jagged streaks of lightning from the tip of the holly stick to incinerate others to ash. Buildings started to fall, and the debris spilled out into the road, crushing many of the fighters. Harry reached to the holster on his leg, pulled out his bull-barrelled revolver and fired six shots, each bullet meeting its target with a satisfying _boom_ and wet slap of falling men and women.

The fire swarming the sky did allow for better vision, if nothing else. Harry looked over in time to see Seamus Finnegan explode into a mess of chunky meat. He stumbled back and retched slightly, collapsing beside an upside down car. He crawled inside for a moment of cover. Looking over, he saw his wife. Harry made a couple of hand gestures. _On the roof of the next building._

She nodded, twisting her wand and swirling it, causing a wave of scarlet light to ripple through ten of the Death Eaters. They fell to the ground, brain dead.

Hermione sidestepped a killing curse, stumbling slightly, and forced herself into a cartwheel to avoid another one. She flipped, and stabbed her assailant in the chest. With the blaring music to intensify her movement, she had never looked so badass. Harry looked on with pride, and a hint of lust, before shaking his head clear, and crawling out of the car. He made a mad dash for one of the buildings, hit the door with his shoulder and it splintered inwards. He didn't stop, even as he fell to the ground, using his momentum to roll back to his feet and scramble up the stairs towards the roof. He heard the music cut off as he burst through the door on the roof.

It was different from up here. The fighting, gunfire and spell fire was just as loud as ever, not as high as the wall to make it inaudible. It was just strange seeing a bird's eye view of the fight. Ron fired spells from above with power that scorched the air, and caused the air to sizzle. Harry looked up, gasping for breath.

The sky burned a fierce orange.

Not the actual sky, of course. But the shield that surrounded the city was burning. It held up, though. Draco was a master at wards, and he had still yet to have his work be defeated. It hadn't stopped the Death Eaters from walking straight through, however. But then again, that wasn't its purpose.

Flames licked the cracked streets, and a thick haze of smoke hung lazily, pooling around and oozing out of the cinders of Durham Cathedral. It had taken four and a half hours for the ancient structure to burn down. Harry could only hope that if God existed, he would exact a special punishment on the forces of The Dark Lord for burning down the house of worship. Harry wasn't a religious man, but this angered him nonetheless.

He was snapped out of his stupor by the hellish glare of spell fire. Streaks of violet and green danced through his friends, and one by one, the surviving members of the Resistance either fell, like marionettes with their strings cut, or found cover in the endless rubble. People screamed. People died. People fought.

Harry and Ron were on a rooftop when Voldemort drifted into view. They watched him float down, a vision of light-devouring, ethereal black robes, until he was standing on the shield that defended the remnants of the city. The Resistance's last stronghold.

Voldemort smashed his wand into the tip of it, and a bright, white ripple extended outwards from that point. The shield darkened, and an overcast greyness fell upon Durham.

"It won't hold for much longer," Ron said, and Harry gripped his wand tighter.

Harry gave a curt nod in the affirmative. "We don't have much longer. I can't say it's been a pleasure, Weasley, but the first six years of our friendship were some of the happiest I ever had. I just wish it had turned out differently."

"Me too, Potter. Me too..." Ron sighed truthfully. "I wish we could turn back time. Like an overcharged time-turner. Remember that in third year? With Hermione's? 'Cause I don't."

Harry rolled his eyes. Ron could never get over being unconscious for one night and missing the time-traveling escapades of their third year. After giving Ron a slap on his back, Harry handed him his sniper. As much as Ron had hated to admit it at first, no wizard's reflexes were fast enough to stop a bullet, even if they didn't have the capability to just sail right through a shield.

"Harry!" Hermione kicked open the rooftop door, a broadsword in her hands. "Oh my God _Harry_ , we need to go now!" She turned around and sliced an Inferi apart, before plunging the blade into the chest of a Death Eater.

"Good luck, Ron." Harry said softly, truly meaning it.

"You too, Harry. Do this for us all. So many lives have been lost, and only you can save them. I just hope thirteen year old you gets the message." Ron said, not taking his eye from the scope of the Barret.

Harry gave him one final, pitying, look, before rushing to Hermione's aid, and planting his revolver into a Death Eaters face and pulling the trigger. He would have loved to have used a Clint Eastwood, ' _Dirty Harry_ ' line, but there just wasn't time for such luxuries.

"Do I want to know where you got a sword?"

"Husband of mine, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Hermione grinned, proudly swinging it to rest on her shoulder as she struck a dramatic pose _._ Harry stared at her for a moment, and she pouted. "The museum was burning down! I mean, it's not like anyone was using it! We need all the weapons we can get!"

Harry grinned as he passed her, patting her cheek patronisingly and making his way down the stairs. "Of course, dear. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you've wanted to be a knight since you were five years old."

Growling, Hermione followed him down the stairs. However, Death Eaters had clearly seen them rush in from the fighting in the streets, and were waiting for them on the floor they descended to. Baring her teeth, and gripping her sword, Hermione prepared to fight. Harry allowed his fingers to flex over the grip of the gun he still hadn't put away.

Harry was the first to move. He rushed forward, sliding low and wiping the legs out of one Death Eater, smashing an elbow into the gut of another. Hermione joined him, slicing a Death Eater's thigh, and the forcing the rip of the blade up through the room of his screaming mouth, and out of his head, silencing him. Harry was vaguely reminded of the Chamber of Secrets, and felt a pang of longing for the simpler days. What he wouldn't give to be back in those times instead of the hell that surrounded him.

He swung his gun, as if to smash someone in the face with it, but a kick in his wrist forced him to let go of it, and allow it to fall out of his grip to the floor. His hand flung wide with the momentum of the kick, but came back and grabbed the robes of a Death Eater and threw him out of a window effortlessly, his muscles rippling as he did so. The Death Eater screamed on the way down, before the screaming ended with a dull thud. He turned and kicked another in the chest, before taking his head off with a blasting hex. Harry bent to retrieve his gun as Hermione thrust the sword through an assailants chest, screaming with rage.

Happy the room was clear, he grabbed Hermione by the hand and led her down the last two flights of stairs and out into the street. They took cover behind the charred husk of an overturned Ford Focus.

Harry popped his head above the wheel arch, and instantly ducked down. Spells scarred the underside of the car, and exploded against the path behind them. Harry took this rare moment when they had cover to survey the damage. The Great Wall was all but destroyed. Even now, it was crumbling under heavy spell fire. Another floating ball of blue-tinted energy, not unlike the one that had almost killed Hermione, drifted to the wall and exploded against it. Watchtowers fell; Muggles and Wizards alike were killed by the blasts or, more likely, the falling masonry. A few explosions rocked the city itself, damaging houses and other dwellings. Buildings toppled, and the roar of battle was loud. Multicoloured spells flew through the air at frightening speed, and flashes of gunfire surrounded them. Harry scrambled forward, and picked up a fallen shotgun.

Hermione waited a moment before she rose above her cover, and fired a merciless Confringo in the direction of their attackers, and then dropped back down.

"Guess that takes care of that," Hermione said mirthlessly. "Draco's waiting for us - this could be the only way we save everyone, so we need to do it quick."

"Let's go then," Harry said. He stole a quick kiss from her. "Lead the way."

They got up and started sprinting down the open street. Hermione coughed in the smoke, and Harry quickly took his jacket off, and tore his shirt off, before replacing his coat. He put the shirt front of her mouth like a gas mask. She thanked him with her eyes, and swung with her sword against an oncoming opponent.

A Death Eater with a face like a battered shovel came at him with a sword in his fist. Harry knocked the sword to one side, tried to swing the butt of his shotgun, but he needn't have bothered. A well-placed sniper shot took the Death Eater out of action.

Harry would have to thank Ron, if either of them lived through today. Or if the plan worked.

Harry turned around and jammed the barrel of the gun into another Death Eater's stomach before pulling the trigger. The body was flung into the air and disappeared behind a pile of broken brick that was once a house.

"Nearly there," Hermione said as they continued on, fighting all the way. She paused to decapitate someone. "It's just underneath the Cathedral."

Harry went to give her a witty, perhaps sarcastic joke in response, but never managed as a jet of light took her off her feet and sent her cascading down the road. Harry's eyes widened, and he whipped around and ran towards her. He flung his wand hand out, and a bright blue curve of energy formed, keeping the rubble of a collapsing building at bay.

"Move, Hermione!" Harry roared, desperately gesturing with the other hand for her to move. She got the idea, and stood up. She started towards him, slowly at first, only a limp, but sped up. It was then that a stray cutting curse sliced open Harry's cheek, causing him to flinch back and lose control. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw this, and started to break into a sprint as the flickering blue light faded away. Harry's own eyes widened as he saw this mistake, and quickly went to rectify it, but not fast enough as the building beside him crumbled and fell, right on top of his wife.

Harry stood there, shocked.

This was confusing. This was wrong. This was...

He looked up, feeling the need to call a halt to everything, to point to his Hermione Potter, to tell them that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. But all around, people fought and died, and none of them felt the need to call a timeout.

His grip on his wand tightened, and his breathing quickened in pace. Spells ricocheted off twisted metal and they bent around him, almost twisting to his will. He let out a scream, a primal roar of rage, and ran into the crowd. Suddenly he had a knife in his hand, and he tore it out of his palm and used it to slice his way through the army of dark. It was clearly an enchanted knife, or else Harry's adrenaline and rage fuelled muscles just cleaved through bone as seamlessly as it would flesh in one quick movement.

Arms, hands, fingers and broken wands fell to the floor, shortly before their owner's lifeless bodies did. He jumped, the knife going through someone's bicep, and then he spun, cutting the muscle open and stabbing someone in the kidney in one swift motion.

He swung and swirled and spun whirled, a mess of blood and anger and hate and death. He smashed the dagger into the forearm of a shocked Death Eater, and the magical infusion from Harry's anger and sorrow, which had allowed him to cut so effortlessly, conducted through the blade and into the Dark Mark. Around him, every single Death Eater exploded into dust, only their robes, masks and wands remaining, fluttering to the crowd in the sudden absence of the large crowd that had populated the street only a moment ago. The silence was deafening.

Everyone was staring at him. He could feel it. It was a skill he had honed since he had first entered the Wizarding World. Near singlehandedly, Harry had just wiped out every single Death Eater, finishing the war almost by himself. An Inferi burst their hand through someone's chest, reminding the Resistance that while the Death Eaters were gone, the Inferi were most certainly not. The fight wasn't over yet. Harry didn't look up as the fighting began again.

He fell to his knees, magical exhaustion from the amount of magic he had infused into his body and expelled in the extermination of the Death Eaters settling in. _Hermione. Hermione. My Hermione. No, this can't be happening. This can't be..._

Voldemort stepped down from the sky, making his way down an invisible staircase until he stood in front of Harry's kneeling form. Harry's scar exploded into unimaginable pain the closer the Dark Lord got. Harry didn't flinch, however. Harry didn't care.

"Potter," Voldemort said, almost softly, even as fighting continued to rage around them. That was a change. Riddle used to refer to Harry by his first name, whether it was to be patronising, or for some other purpose, that stage of their fight had passed a while ago, as Voldemort's impatience for Harry's continued evasion of both him and death wearing thin. "Twenty four years, it's almost been, since you foiled my plans for the subjugation of this... mewling, pathetic race." He bent over, peering inquisitively at Harry's kneeling, crying form. Grief - well, any emotion other than hatred and fury were a foreign notion to the Dark Lord.

Harry surprised himself at that. He hadn't even been aware he _had_ been crying. Now that he knew, however, he was suddenly aware of the hot tears slowly tracking down his face. He felt Voldemort roughly wipe the tears away, clearly not liking that he didn't understand Harry's pain.

"Eleven years of war," Voldemort continued, "Of fighting. And _now_ you break? What happened to you, _General Potter?_ Where is your spirit?" He straightened, and spread his arms wide.

"Where are your heroes?" Voldemort asked loudly, indicating Harry on the floor, but no longer talking to him. now he surveyed the crowds of fighters. "Where is Remus Lupin, or Sirius Black, or Albus Dumbledore? Where are the men you send to take down men like _me?_ "

Harry growled at that, and stood slowly. He sneered as best he could at the Lord of the Dark. "I'm right here, you reptilian prick."

Harry dived, and rolled as Voldemort conjured up a sword of sharp flame, his ritual augmented body allowing strength beyond that of any human. Harry snatched the Elder Wand out of Tom's grip, and fired and missed as he got back to his feet, before he fell back as Voldemort flung the blade. It missed by a hairs breadth, and he tripped and reeled and the Dark Lord came for him, smacked into Harry, lifting him off his feet as easily as one would swat a fly. Voldemort took the Elder Wand back from where it had been dropped on the floor, and as Harry rolled to a halt, he grabbed a fallen wand. A quick _Expelliarmus_ returned it to Harry's grip. Harry very much doubted that Voldemort knew what had just happened.

Voldemort roared in displeasure, and clasped his hands together. A bright ball of light started to form in his hands, and the sounds of war stopped around them. Onlookers began to watch in morbid fascination, as though in a trance. The final battle between Lord Voldemort and General Harry Potter.

Voldemort's arms started to tremble. Silver light spilled out from between his fingers. Very, very bright light.

Suddenly the crowd burst into movement, Neville and Ron bursting through. "Stop him!" Screamed Ron. "Don't let him-"

But it was too late.

Voldemort opened his hands.

The silver light exploded outwards silently and consumed the world. It swallowed the crowds, Ron and Neville. A deafening rush of air, the world filled with fragments, bricks and masonry and glass and wood and metal. Harry was thrown, tossed and spun. Buildings were torn down, folding like paper. Streets crumpled. Lamp posts snapped. And then everything was silent.

There was a wind.

Harry didn't know where it had come from. Just a moment ago it had been a still day.

A moment?

A minute?

An hour?

But now there was a wind, a strong wind, catching the clouds of dust and spinning them into little tornadoes of debris. He turned over onto his back. Dust in his eyes. Dust in his mouth.

He was cold. He'd lost his jacket. The shockwave had yanked it away from him. Was he hurt? He wriggled his toes. Wriggled his fingers. No broken bones. Was he bleeding? Probably. Overall though, he was okay. He was unhurt. He wasn't overly sure if the same could be said for Voldemort. He had probably used up the last of his strength during the... what? What was that? That was more than an explosion. That blast should probably have killed him. Why hadn't it killed him? He didn't notice that his scar no longer hurt.

Groaning, Harry sat up.

Durham was in ruins.

The blast had wiped most of the buildings in the vicinity into debris, which was then flung like supersonic meteorites into the surrounding structures. A large neon sign sparked in the burning top floor of a building it had previously been nowhere near. Fires raged. People screamed. Some buildings were half skeletons, the sides facing the blasts having been stripped down to their metal frame, and the floors and walls falling to the ground. A groan and a crash, followed by more screams from far away told Harry the buildings were still falling. He scrambled forward on his front, desperately clutching for the Elder Wand.

Voldemort was standing at the epicentre of the explosion - Harry could see him. They locked eyes and Voldemort let his widen.

"How do you live?" He whispered, his words travelling on the wind and into Harry's ears.

Harry gripped his side, suddenly noticing the pain he was in. The explosion had opened up the cut he had recieved on the wall. How had he not noticed that? He was sure he checked for injuries. His bare skin rippled up in goosebumps against the chill of the air. He looked at the red eyes of the murderer who had taken away everything he had ever loved.

"Because I had something worth living for."

Voldemort grabbed the fiery sword, somehow still where it had fallen and threw it again. It hit his bare shoulder and dug in, staying there. Harry screamed in pain, and fell to one knee, but got back up, panting. He kept walking. The Elder Wand was by Harry's feet. He bent over to collect it, screeching as the blade tore muscle. He needed that wand. He needed it.

Voldemort watched in astonishment as the man before him just kept getting back up, and Harry would bet he was starting to feel a little bit scared. Disarmed, and alone, Voldemort unconsciously took a step back. Harry attempted a smirk, and it came out as a grimace.

Roaring, Harry broke into a sprint, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye, firing as he went. Voldemort dodged the first couple curses, then grabbed a corpse, and used it as a shield. It was eviscerated, and he grabbed another and hurled it at Harry, who had to scramble to avoid it. A shadow fell over him, and Harry turned; Voldemort's hand closed round his throat and he jumped, his enhanced legs sending them flying forward, into a part of the city where buildings still stood. He swirled around, and pinned him against the wall with a slam as Harry jammed the Elder Wand under his chin.

They froze.

Voldemort's red eyes flickered down to the Deathstick, then back up to meet Harry's green ones.

"All I have to do is squeeze." Voldemort said.

"All I have to do is think," Harry replied.

"You have such power," Voldemort tried. "You attempted to aide the Mudbloods, and you failed. There's no shame in that. I can even forgive you slaughtering my army. We could rule this country together, and then the world."

"There would be nothing left to rule," Harry spat. "I will never join you. Nothing you say or offer me can convince me otherwise."

"Then it appears we are at an impasse. If I kill you, you kill me. If you kill me-"

Green light flashed and Voldemort's eyes widened as he fell backwards, dead. Harry rubbed his throat. "I kill you."

* * *

Not many witnessed Voldemort's death. Fewer were in a condition to speak about it. The news travelled fast, however. Cheers rung out, but they had a hollow sound. Such a cost, for one man's life. And not just this battle. All of the others. The Battle of Hogwarts was just the start, and the Seige on Durham was to be the end. Starting from Cedric, and ending with Ron and Neville in that blast.

He knew how he had survived now. The final Horcrux was in his head. That had been taken by death in Harry's stead.

It took him longer than necessary to get to the room under the Cathedral - the corridors were different, cave-ins and blockages confusing the path. He passed the Medical Wing, a far cry from the room at Hogwarts. This was about the size of a football stadium. Wiping the blood from the cut on his cheek, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he watched people running around in a hectic panic. It reminded him of Poppy Pomfrey in the medical wing at Hogwarts. His thoughts turned sad as he remembered how that had ended up. With the floor of the Hospital wing collapsing to the floor below, killing all of its occupants, Pomfrey included. They had to evacuate so quickly, they couldn't even get the bodies out of the rubble. That had been almost three years ago now.

He eventually got to Draco's lab, and Malfoy swivelled his head to him as he entered.

"Jesus, Harry," Draco said, using Harry's first name for the first time, and embracing him in a hug, his mechanical arm cold against Harry's bare back. "You did it. You killed him!"

"Is _Primis_ ready?" Harry asked tiredly, ignoring the blonde boy's praise, and statements of the obvious.

"Oh," Draco's brow furrowed. "Erm, yes, but we don't have to use it, right? I mean, we defeated him. You killed Voldemort. The world is ours to rebuild again."

"Yes, I killed him." Harry said. "But I also killed her."

Draco's eyes changed slightly. "Granger? Hermione? She - she's _dead_?"

Harry didn't respond and Draco just sat down. "Merlin, Potter, I am so sorry. I know she and I didn't get along, but I know you two-"

"Stop." Harry commanded quietly, and Draco closed his mouth. "I killed Voldemort, but look at the cost. So many lives lost. Do you know how many? Do you? I do. Fifty five _million._ Dead. Gone. Never coming back. Because I was _born."_

"Life goes on, Harry," Draco told him. "Changing history because we don't like what happened...that's playing God."

"You were all for this before," Harry said coldly. "What happened? Getting cold feet?"

"Yes, I am." Draco snapped, his anger returning. "Because I thought this would be a last resort. You said we would only use it if there was no other option." Draco splayed his hands. "There's another option! We rebuild, a world of Wizard and Muggle, _together_ in harmony!"

"There is a chance to get back everything we lost!" Harry snarled. "We can erase this war from the face of history! Save every life lost! Fix every life shattered! We can _fix_ it! It was going to be me, Hermione and Neville, but now I guess it's just me. Don't you _dare_ deny me this!"

"I bloody well will!" Malfoy roared, stepping between Harry and the magical theory he had made magical fact behind him. "If you do this, you'll kill us! Everyone who survived! You're talking about killing everyone you fought to save!"

"No, I'm-"

"Yes Harry. Wiping me out, changing my memories and personality, taking the years of growth from me and everyone else until we're no longer the same people. That's killing me. That's killing us. Changing the future kills those that you left in it."

Harry moved so fast he doubted Draco even saw it. The Elder Wand in his hand, Draco ended up on the floor, bound in what would have been ropes from a normal wand. The Elder Wand did nothing normal, however. He lay bound in chains.

"I'll be there for you. I'll even stop my petty dispute with you. It's not just my memories I'm sending back, but my respect. You don't need to tell me- I know your younger self won't understand, but I don't care." He sighed. "There will never be another man quite like you," Harry said quietly, walking towards the device that had been named _Primis._

"I hate you."

Harry smiled. "No you don't."

"Yes I do. I want to kill you and stuff."

"We've become friends through this war."

"That's not what happened," said Draco.

"We're pals. We're buddies."

"If my wrists weren't chained behind me, my hands would be around your throat."

"You want to hug my throat because we're friends."

"I really hate you."

Harry bent over and hugged the bound man. "I'm sorry I had to do this. You'd try and stop me. I always was the better dueller."

Draco had tears in his eyes he was trying to fight against. He knew he couldn't stop him. "Your face is stupid. You have an ugly scar. You have to stay so we can have _stupid_ , _meaningless_ fights," he lost control and started to break down.

"Life without her isn't worth it, Draco." Harry said, starting to cry himself. "You've been one of the best friends I ever had, in the short time it's been that way. I hope you have a good one. In this life, and the next. I need her though. _Alive_."

With that, he stepped onto the Runic Array atop a type of dais, and lifted the Elder Wand. It lit faintly, and on the other side of the room a rune started to glow. The light spread like water, seeping through the runes, cuts and carves, until there was a burst of white, and the world vanished without fanfare.

* * *

(1)Yes, I did steal this from Doctor Who. Bite me.

For those who aren't clever enough to figure it out, this whole chapter is in the memory, and next chapter will be getting back to normal. I was trying to show in this chapter that while Harry has a better grasp over magic than most, he isn't a super powered-wizard-god. That's why he doesn't just flick his hand and kill everyone -He can't.

Other than that, I hope you enjoyed! Again, this chapter was beta'd by Yuilhan over on , and it has made it so much better. I can't thank them enough.

Please leave a review if you liked it.


	4. I'm Gonna Love Her For Both Of Us

**I'm Gonna Love Her For Both Of Us**

The room around her started to fade, and Hermione stumbled backwards away from the Pensieve, screaming as she came back to consciousness in her own body. Her young _alive_ body.

She continued shuffling backwards, tripping over one of the steps that led up to Dumbledore's desk and falling flat on her bum, and continued until she reached the corner of two bookshelves. Then, she curled up into a ball and started sobbing.

Dumbledore looked at her with a sad look on his face, not quite sure what to do. He had seen this before. Specifically, when Neville Longbottom had asked for the details of the Arcadia Battle of the First War. It was the battle in which his parents had gone insane.

There was a scuffle to his left as Harry came to, gasping great, shuddering breaths. He wiped the blood from his nose with his sleeve, causing Dumbledore to frown. He could have conjured up a box of tissues to prevent Harry from getting blood on the sleeve of a perfectly good robe.

Dumbledore's methodical mind started to go over what he had just seen, barely registering that it was almost one o'clock in the morning. Harry was now aware of a great many things he could do without him knowing. Dumbledore rubbed his temples. He was aware of the Horcruxes. He was aware of the prophecy. It certainly sounded like he was aware of Dumbledore's biggest secret, one he had hoped to take to the grave.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of Harry rushing over to Hermione's side. It seems he had finally become coherent enough to realise his surroundings.

"H-Hermione?" Harry questioned quietly, reaching out to touch her. "I'm sorry, I-if I had known-"

He was interrupted by Hermione throwing her arms around him in a hug tighter than any he had ever recieved from her before. She clutched at his clothes, her breathing quick, and uneven. He heard her swallow noisily.

"You're okay," she whispered to herself. "You're okay..."

"It's fine, Hermione. I'm alright," Harry said, his hand behind her head. "I...you're alive..."

They stayed there for a minute or two locked in their embrace, before Dumbledore coughed slightly, gaining their attention. They stopped their hug, but Hermione remained clutched on to Harry's arm with no intention of letting it, or him, go anytime soon.

"I'm so very sorry that two so young had to witness such atrocities. Know that if I had known how bad it was, I wouldn't have allowed-"

"But you did know." Harry said bluntly. "I _told_ you I remembered a war-zone. Did you not believe me? I see how much faith you have in me now."

"I-" Dumbledore started, but sighed. Had he not seen them, he would have had no idea that Harry's memories could have been so awful. "Forgive me Harry. I didn't believe that you meant something that bad."

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two.

"No, of course you didn't. That's to be expected. I'm only thirteen after all. I wouldn't take me seriously if I was in your shoes," Harry acknowledged.

Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows rose; "That is a surprisingly...mature response, Mr Potter. Either way, know that I shall take you far more seriously from now on." He paused and swallowed slightly, and Harry saw tears glistening in the light from the Pensieve. When had it gotten so dark? "I'm also incredibly sorry that you had to go through such an ordeal at all. I retract my earlier statement. We must do everything we can to avoid this."

"But aren't we doing that already?" Hermione interjected, albeit quietly. "We've already being doing it, I mean, even now. That's what we're doing isn't it? Right now, changing the way it goes?"

"Correct, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "However, now I believe it prudent to take a more...disruptive course of action."

"You mean completely change everything?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Good. I was going to do that anyway, after I had seen that."

"The first thing we need to do," Dumbledore said, "Is to destroy some objects known as Horcruxes. Harry, I believe you know what I'm talking about."

Harry nodded, and Hermione frowned into his arm. She didn't like being the most oblivious person in the room. She wasn't used to it. She decided to show off her deductive skills.

"I'm assuming a Horcrux is something used to achieve immortality, or to prolong someone's life?" Hermione asked. "I mentioned it in the memory. Before... Before everything..."

She started to sniffle again, and Harry wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her arm.

"Very true, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said gently. "They are dark, evil objects that can stop a wizard or witch from dying, by effectively splitting their soul? This is the reason I believe Voldemort survived that night."

"You mean-?"

"Yes, 'Mione. He means when my parents died," Harry whispered to her. "I'll explain this all to you later."

"Voldemort has not risen yet. Should we destroy these Horcruxes before his return, it may in fact prevent this," Dumbledore started moving, and sat at his desk, steepling his fingers. Harry and Hermione took this as a cue to sit down themselves, with Hermione never letting go of Harry. They ended up on an armchair, with her sitting in his lap. Harry didn't mind.

"Now another thing we must do is train you," Dumbledore told the two of them. "Should we fail in our mission, and Voldemort is resurrected, it will be prudent that you know how to defend yourself. This is a worst-case scenario, but nevertheless, it should be considered."

Harry nodded, and chuckled slightly as he felt Hermione's head droop, but shoot right back up. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was likely starting to feel just how tired she actually was.

"Harry, at a later date, I ask that you allow me to go through your mind with an art known as Legilimency. I'm assuming you know what this is?"

Harry gasped in pain and clutched his head with the hand that wasn't around Hermione. More memories flowed into his brain; Occlumency, Legilimency, the lessons with Snape, how they had caused him to build a natural barrier against unwanted eyes in his mind, the correct incantation, how not everybody could do it, the many passages he had read on the topic, how-

Harry gritted his teeth and nodded. "Yes. I can't perform it, though."

Dumbledore seemed unfazed. "That is unfortunate, but not disastrous. It is Occlumency that matters, though there are benefits to Legilimency."

Harry nodded, the pain fading, "I take it you want to try and find the date of Voldemort's resurrection in my mind?"

Dumbledore mimicked Harry's action. "That is correct. Any other vital information also. I will avoid any personal memories unless absolutely necessary."

"Then, yeah, I'll allow it. I trust you, I suppose," Harry said. "Though in that time, I would like to talk to you about some things that I won't bring up now because of how late it is."

Dumbledore seemed satisfied with this, and opened his pocket watch. His eyes bulged slightly. "Goodness Gracious! I apologise, Harry, Hermione, I was unaware of the time. There is much more for us to discuss, but I agree that a later date would be better," He paused. "Once again, I would like to express how truly sorry I am for what you went through. No-one should have to do that. Miss Granger, may I talk to you for a moment?"

Harry frowned; "Am I not wanted?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You have nothing to worry about Harry, I assure you. But I do need a private word with Miss Granger."

Harry narrowed his eyes for a moment and didn't move, but then he seemed satisfied and he nodded. He lifted Hermione off his lap, and gently prised his arm from hers, causing her to panic slightly.

"I'll be just outside," Harry whispered to her, and gave her one final hug. He kissed her on the forehead affectionately, before turning and leaving. He knew there must be thousands of questions in that head of hers, and it would be his task to answer them the next morning.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Dumbledore diverted his attention to Hermione. She seemed uncomfortable in the chair alone, and her eyes kept flitting to the doorway. Usually, that would mean she didn't want to be here. Now, Dumbledore believed she simply wanted to be with Harry.

"Now, Miss Granger, I feel I must warn you," Dumbledore began seriously, leaning forward. "You may have noticed differences in Harry today, and I believe these will only become more pronounced after tonight. There is the possibility of Harry going through something known as 'shell shock', and I feel your presence would be for his betterment. You can, of course, deny this task, but I feel it would be good for both of you if you sat down and spoke about those events." He sighed, "I'm very sorry for having allowed you to watch that. That was a sight nobody, let alone a fourteen-year-old girl should have seen."

"Post-traumatic stress." Hermione mumbled softly, after a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore asked.

"It's called PTSD," Hermione said, louder this time. "'Post-traumatic-stress-disorder'. It hasn't been called shell shock since the early half of the century."

Dumbledore smiled at her; "Something else that the muggles do far better than us, is the simply magnificent names things are given. It is times like this I so wish our world was up to speed with theirs. The Draco Malfoy in that memory had a point about Muggles and Wizards living in harmony. We could learn so much from each other..."

He shook his head. "Am I to take it you want to do this?"

"Yes." She answered immediately. "Good God, yes. I'd do anything for Harry, and it helps that I have a lot of questions for him."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm sure. Know your boundaries, however. I warn you, I have seen this many times since the first war, and there are some things that he may just not be ready to talk about. I'm aware that you believe you are in the same state as him, but know he is a lot worse. It is one thing to see, and another to experience. I know how close you two are, but I wouldn't expect him to reveal everything to you."

"But then again, things _have_ changed." Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "After tonight, your relationship with Harry has deepened. You know it has. You now know the lengths he would go to for you, and that's the problem. Hermione, he would sacrifice the world for you. In fact, he already has."

Hermione said nothing, and suddenly became very interested in the hands in her lap.

"Would you like some Firewhiskey?"

Hermione's head rocketed up in shock. _Dumbledore_ was offering _her_ a _minor_ , _Firewhiskey_? "What _?_ " She asked dully.

Dumbledore nodded, reaching into his drawer to grab three crystal glasses and a dusty bottle of a glowing, sunset orange liquid. "Ah, you're right of course. We should invite Harry in for a glass. I'm sure he could use it more than the both of us."

Hermione was too tired to argue, and as such she simply grunted. The door opened with a flick of Dumbledore's wand, and Harry walked in.

"You ready to go 'Mi?" He asked.

"Before you leave, Harry my boy, I insist you have some of Ogdens finest to take your mind off tonight's events."

Harry stared for a moment, before shrugging and making his way towards the vacant armchair. When he sat down, Hermione made some strange whimper, and scooted to sit on his lap again. Harry looked at her, concerned, and gave her a hug as her weight settled against his body.

"You okay?"

She didn't answer, just tucked her head into the crook of his neck, whispering something over and over again. Harry rubbed her back, and shot Dumbledore a concerned look. ' _What do I do?!'_ His eyes practically screamed.

Dumbledore slid two glasses of the amber liquid across the desk towards him. It was only when Harry picked up the glass, that he realised just how young he actually was.

"You do realise that you've just given two third year students some of the strongest alcohol in the country?"

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively; "Ah, It's not so tough. I'm sure we all need it before we get some sleep."

Harry gave him a disapproving look, but took the glasses anyway. He tapped Hermione on the shoulder, and one of her hands came and took the glass as she shifted away from his shoulder to sit upright. They both took a sip, and began coughing.

Dumbledore chuckled.

* * *

There wasn't much talk for the next hour. Harry doubted Dumbledore even knew he kept them that long, especially after he had seemed so insistent on getting them to bed earlier.

Hermione had fallen asleep on his shoulder about forty-five minutes ago, but Harry hadn't minded. He absentmindedly drew circles on her back, even as Dumbledore made a sudden start.

"My boy, Harry! It's nearly half past two! You simply must get to bed. You can't return to the dormitory at such a time of night, as you will wake the portraits, so I shall ask one of the House Elves to show you somewhere the pair of you may spend the night."

"Subby!" He called, and an old looking elf came into existence with a slight pop of displaced air. "Yes, Sir Dumbelydorey?"

Dumbledore beamed down at the creature. "Do you know of any rooms Harry and his friend could stay in?"

The elf nodded. "I do! I do! It is on the seventh floor corridor, near the silly wall towel. Shall meet them there." He dissapeared as quietly as he had came in the room before.

"There you go then, Harry." Dumbledore said, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey. "I do so love those fascinating creatures..."

"Why don't you treat them like everybody else does, sir?" Harry asked him curiously.

"A good friend of mine once opened my eyes to their mistreatment, and I have done my best to be kind to them since." There was a moment of silence. "Anyhow! Off you trot! And be sure not to tell anyone that I gave you alcohol - I would be _fired_ immediately!" Dumbledore chortled slightly, and let out a small belch of flame.

Harry barely suppressed a groan at his pun, and gave the drunk man a look, before scooping the sleeping Hermione up into his arms, and carrying her as she lay down across his arms out of the office. The corridors were unsurprisingly devoid of any teachers or prefects on the prowl, given the early hours. Most of the patrolling figures retired after about eleven o'clock.

Harry had just finished the last flight of stairs, and was walking down the corridor when he saw the old elf, true to his word, waiting at the end of the corridor. Harry approached him, and put a finger to his lips, nodding to the sleeping Hermione who let out a slight snore at that point.

Subby wiggled his big ears in silent confirmation. "This is the Come and Go room, or as Wizard calls it, the Room of Requirement. Walk past corridor three times thinking of what yous wants, and shall appear."

"Thank you," Harry mouthed, before starting to pace by the tapestry, envisioning a bedroom in his mind's eye. On the third pace, a door appeared, and opening it Harry discovered a small bedroom, identical to the one he had been thinking of.

There was a fire, not unlike the one in the Gryffindor common room, and a single four poster bed in a neutral white colour, with matching curtains tucked into the corner. A plush looking red sofa was opposite to the bed, on a slight angle so that it was looking into the fire. The ceiling was low, and it seemed quite cosy.

Harry gently placed Hermione down on the sofa, not noticing her eyelids fluttering open, and drew back the covers so he could deposit her into the bed. Walking back around the sofa, he smiled at what he thought was her sleeping form. Softly, he lifted her up, one arm under her knees, the other on her shoulders, the crook of his elbow supporting her head. He moved across the room and lay her down on the bed. Carefully removing her robe and tie, followed by her shoes, but leaving her in her trousers, shirt and jumper to sleep in. He moved the covers back over her and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

"Sleep well, 'Mi," He whispered, making sure she was properly tucked in. He didn't notice the small smile on her face before he made his way to the sofa and lay down. It didn't take him to long to drift off into a fitful slumber.

* * *

Hermione awoke, and stopped herself from opening her eyes and it felt as if only a moment ago Harry had been laying her down on the bed she was currently on and tucking her in. She had slept soundly that night, far too tired to have nightmares about what she had seen.

Her eyes snapped open at that point, and she slowly started to remember everything she had seen in the Pensieve. However, before she could do anything more than think, she frowned as she realised she couldn't actually see.

She moved her hand to her face, and felt a sheet of parchment stuck to her forehead. Peeling it off huffily, she read it.

 _Hermione,_

 _Make a careful note of the time right now. I've just had a conversation with Harry that you're sure to find interesting. It's going to take a bit of time, and you're going to miss your first two classes, which is why, of course, I've used this time turner._

- _Hermione_

At the mentioned name, Hermione looked to the side and saw Harry asleep on the sofa, still dressed in yesterday's clothes. She tapped the note with the glowing tip of her wand, causing it to wipe itself clean. A quick _Tempus_ spell revealed it to be a little past eight in the morning. Noting the time, she swung her legs out of the warm confines of the bed, and made her way over to Harry, yawning.

Hermione wasn't completely sure on how she felt about Harry at the moment. She would admit to a schoolgirl crush on him for the majority of their first and second year because of the troll incident, and then further getting to know him, but that had waned sometime in the summer. Shrunk, when she realised she would never be more than friends. Shrivelled, when she realised she wasn't as close to him as she had previously thought.

He was still her best friend though, obviously, and closer to her than Ron ever had been.

Last night had changed things. Her perspective of Harry had shifted, and for once she had allowed her mind to entertain the possibility that Harry could view her as more than a friend. She knew that she might be closer to him than she had previously thought, and wasn't at all sure of how to react to what he had done for her. She had read sappy stories where one friend or lover would die for the other, but never had she read a story where the significant other had destroyed eleven years of time and space just because he couldn't live without her.

It was another knife stabbed in her theory of Harry not liking her, and a small fraction of hope was desperately trying to restart her crush on him. She was secretly pleased that Harry had _married_ the future her. She honestly had no idea how to react to that other than a pleasant flutter of happiness coursing through her.

Harry was twisted strangely on the sofa, his glasses askew and his mouth slightly open. Hermione suppressed a smile, and shook him awake. Groaning slightly, he twisted over to face her.

"Yeah?" Harry burbled unintelligently. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, sitting up and cracking his stiff back. "Mornin' beautiful. You okay?"

Hermione blushed brilliantly, and willed herself to behave before she smiled and motioned for him to move along. Sitting down, and leaning against him, her smile dimmed slightly. "Sort of. I'm not sure. I just... I saw so much yesterday, y'know?"

Harry started to stroke Hermione's arm comfortingly, not fully aware of what he was doing; "I would have preferred it if you hadn't seen it, to be honest."

"Why?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I just wanted to protect you from...well, _that_."

"My choice, Potter," Hermione said.

"Though I sort of wish I hadn't seen it, I am glad that I did. It's just," she seemed to struggle for words, "I didn't realise how... _brutal_ the world could be. And, I mean, I thought Voldemort was dead. We all did. It's weird, now that I know he's alive. Even now."

She shivered slightly, and looked around to Harry's amusement.

"So," Harry prompted after a pregnant pause. "Are we, erm, going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

Hermione wasn't stupid, and flushed red. "I suppose. We have to do it at some point."

"That we do," Harry said.

There was silence for a couple of minutes, until Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed.

"You know there's use getting all embarrassed about it! We got married in the future, so what? That doesn't mean anything. We're changing _that_ future," she huffed, folding her arms.

Harry retracted his own arm from around her, and she barely saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. Hermione's own eyes widened as she realised how harsh her statement had sounded. "Oh Harry! I'm sorry! I didn't think how that was going to sound! I mean, I'm not-"

Harry cut her off with a laugh; "Don't worry about it."

"But I _am_ worrying about it. You're always so good to me! You would deserve so much better than mousy old _me_ , and-"

"And I married _you,_ " Harry finished. "Whether you want to or not in this future is completely your choice. You don't even have to think about it now. I mean, for crying out loud, you're only fourteen. The only person I can see my future with is you, but that could be mixing up my feelings now, and my future self's feelings." He started to play with her hair. "Just know, that if you'd ever give me a chance, I'd love you for both of us."

"Oh Harry, you're so sweet," Hermione's mouth twitched into a smile again.

"Anyway," Harry said. "What on earth do _we_ know about love? We're _children_. I think if we suddenly declared our love for each other, it'd be a tad bit strange. I mean, I suppose we could try it out, and just see what happens from there."

"Not yet," Hermione swallowed. "I need some time to think about this."

"Perfectly fine," Harry said. "Take as long as you need."

There was yet another pause, and Harry smirked. "I find it funny that's what came to your mind when I said we had to talk about the elephant in the room."

"Do you?" Hermione said, flushing with colour. "Well, I'm sure- _wait_. What did _you_ mean?"

"I was talking more about how I killed you," Harry shrugged casually, though he had a look in his eyes that was clearly pained.

Hermione's temper flared, and she slapped him across the face with a resounding _crack_ ;"Don't you _dare_ say that, Harry James Potter! That was _not_ your fault! I saw that as well as you did, so don't blame yourself for something that is by no way your fault."

"It might as well have been," Harry sucked in a breath, rubbing his cheek with a strange sense of déjà vu. "I remember most of that war now. I've done awful things. I... Hermione, I killed you."

"I'm still alive."

"But I still killed you. It doesn't matter what happened after that moment. I killed my own wife. What kind of person would do that?"

"Someone who had no other choice!" Hermione said, exasperated. "You had no control over that situation. A building fell and you did your best to save me."

"We'll change it Hermione, I swear. I swear we will. I won't let you die again."

"I know we will," Hermione said, the sincerity of his words causing her to feel fuzzy. "You must have loved me so much. To destroy eleven years' worth of history for me."

"I still do, though I'm not sure how much of that is _this_ me," Harry murmured so that she barely heard. "Damn future memories and feelings. How do you separate them from your own, huh?" He joked.

"Prat," Hermione said, swatting his arm playfully. She decided not to let on how much she hoped they _were_ his own.

"Well, you needn't worry. We'll change that future."

"I know we will," Hermione repeated. "There's loads of reason we have to. I _hated_ that future. I mean... I don't want to lose my family. Is that so wrong?"

He didn't answer, and her eyes widened.

"I mean... I'm sorry, I didn't... That was a dumb thing to say."

"Why?" He asked, and tilted his head. Then he clicked his fingers. "Oh, yes, because my family is dead. I'd completely forgotten."

The warmth in his voice made her smile. "You're such a moron. Sorry though."

He waved her words away. "If people had to apologise to me every time they made some random comment about dead families, I'd never get anything done. As for our relationship, I'm not going to tell you what to do. I want you to be happy and for your parents to be happy, and more importantly, safe. Whatever way you can achieve that is fine with me, and if that includes staying away from me now that you know what I'm going to attract, then I'm okay with that."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "Though I don't think I could _ever_ leave you."

"Then that's your choice," Harry smiled, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I was wondering," Hermione said, mustering up her courage. "If I, erm, could, err,"

She was blushing.

She could feel how red she was and she just wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

"Could I kiss you?" She asked timidly.

Harry flashed her a bright but nervous smile. "Hermione, dear, it's completely your choice. I won't reject you, if that's what your worried about."

 _God, Harry, you aren't making this any easier._ Hermione cursed him mentally. "It's just that, er, if I marry you in the future, there's got to be a reason, right? I just wanna see if it..." She twiddled her thumbs for a second. "...y'know, feels right."

Harry nodded in understanding. 'Of course."

Hermione licked her lips nervously, and gathered up all of her Gryffindor courage. She turned to face Harry, and found herself looking anywhere but at him. She leant forward slightly, her breathing increasing in pace. Her eyes lifted, and met Harry's and she lost herself in those pools of green. They expressed his emotion in a way that his often blank face and controlled smiles never did. She was desperately trying to read those eyes of his now, looking for any sign of resistance, of rejection, of mirth. Anything that might suggest he was laughing at her, but found none.

Their lips brushed gently, and Hermione stiffened slightly before she forced herself to relax into it. She felt her stomach flip at the contact, and found herself melting into his touch. His lips grazed hers again and she pulled away reluctantly, a massive, natural smile forming on her face.

"I could get used to that."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Another one down. I can't say I'm very proud of this one, if I'm honest. I didn't like the way it flowed, and the reactions seemed a bit...tame. Oh well. Tell me what you think.

I've got two ideas for stories. Well, one's an idea, the other is a challenge. You know Reptillia28's 'Don't Fear The Reaper Challenge'? Yeah, I thought I'd give that a shot. I've always wanted to do it. Here's hoping I don't mess it up _too_ badly...

The other idea is a little bit different. I was think, and bear with me on this, of doing a sort of Back to the Future parody. I say sort of, even though that's _exactly_ what it would be. A Back to the Future parody. That'll be a bit outside my comfort zone, as I usually write the serious stuff, but I _really_ wanna see it. Obviously, if I did that one, I'd have to mess with canon dates a bit. Not too much, but a bit.

Special thanks to my beta, Yuilhan! They're absolutely awesome!

I hope you enjoyed.


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